Dwarven Treasure
by ishkaqwiaidurugnul
Summary: There have been countless Legomances, pairings with Aragorn and Eomer, and even Frodo, but have you ever heard of a Gimlimance? Our favourite gruff dwarf suddenly finds himself strangely attached to an opinionated dwarrowmaid...
1. Love Might Find You

Gimli surveyed his new domain happily, eyeing the shining veins of mithril running through the rocky cave walls. A small stream flowed deeper within; its sounds echoing through the vast tunnels. Glistening dewdrops adorned the walls and ceiling like spangled jewels, shining when the orange light of Gimli's flickering torch fell on them. Gimli wondered if there were any real jewels hidden within the vast labyrinth.

"Do you like it?"

Legolas' voice interrupted his thoughts. Gimli turned quickly to see his elf-friend steps behind him.

"Yes, yes. I think it will be a successful colony," he replied, sounding satisfied.

Legolas smiled. "That's good to hear. Shall we step outside for a breath of fresh air?"

"Friend elf, are you telling me that you are still nervous of caves?" Gimli scoffed.

The elf sighed. "I admit I am not completely comfortable underground, but I am mainly wanting to get fresh air. I find the cave air quite stale and constricting."

This Gimli could not argue with, and although he grumbled under his breath, he followed Legolas out of the caves and onto the rocky slope of a mountain. The sun was just setting, and the landscape was bathed in a warm orange light. Legolas breathed deeply, happy to be free of the shadowy caves.

"I asked Elen to marry me," he said quickly, before he lost his nerve.

Gimli looked at him incredulously. "Really?"

"Yes," Legolas replied, grinning.

"And I assume she said yes?" Gimli asked teasingly.

"Yes," the elf repeated, his grin threatening to split his joyful face.

"Congratulations!" Gimli told him. "I am happy for you two." Then he got a mischievous look on his face. "Were you nervous?"

Legolas scowled. "Of course I was nervous!"

The two friends were silent for a while, watching the red sun disappear behind the horizon. Legolas looked thoughtful, and then blurted out, "Gimli, do you ever plan to marry?"

Shock registered on the dwarf's face. "Well, I..." he began. "Well, it's not something I've ever thought about, no."

"So that's a no."

Gimli nodded. "There are very few dwarf-women, you know," he explained. "Only about a third of the dwarven population."

"But there will be some dwarf-women coming to colonize the Glittering Caves, won't there?" Legolas pressed.

"Yes, you can't very well have a colony without them," Gimli said grudgingly. He didn't like where this conversation was going. "So?"

"So... maybe you'll find one you like," Legolas suggested. "Think about it... a pretty little dwarf-woman, with bulging muscles of course, and a fine, neatly-combed beard..."

"I am not looking for love!" Gimli snapped, then his eyes widened. He hadn't meant to snap!

"Neither was I," Legolas said softly. "But love might find you."


	2. She Seems Nice

Gimli tapped his axe against the cave wall half-heartedly, picking at the dull gray rocks. He sighed and laid down his axe. Today was a boring day, and no work need be done until the colonists arrived tomorrow.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, Gimli turned with a jolt. Legolas had an annoying smirk on his face.

"Stop doing that, Elf!" he growled.

"Doing what?" he grinned.

"Uh... um... oh, it's nothing!" the dwarf muttered. He couldn't very well admit that he was scared!

"So, what are you doing?" Legolas asked again.

"Nothing," Gimli replied, sighing.

"How about we go climb some trees?" the elf suggested.

A look of horror crossed Gimli's face. He shook his head rapidly and said, "Oh! Um... I just remembered that I have to... um... finish... my coat of mail that I've been working on!"

He turned to go, but Legolas caught his shirt and held him back. "Don't think you can escape that easily!" he said. "Climbing trees is fun! Come with me!"

"I hate climbing trees just as much as you hate being in caves," Gimli protested.

"And yet I will even follow my friend inside dark, damp caves," Legolas pressed.

Gimli huffed. "Oh, very well," he grudgingly agreed.

Legolas grinned. "Come on then!"

He ran out of the cave exuberantly, practically dragging Gimli after him. The dwarf was muttering and grumbling dwarvish curses the whole time.

"You have been acting like a child ever since you became engaged to that elf-girl," Gimli complained as they strolled over to a small grove of birch-trees.

"And what is wrong with that?" asked Legolas, breaking into an easy run.

"Well, uh..." Gimli paused and realized that the elf was already nearly up a tree. "Elves," he muttered under his breath.

Legolas scrambled joyfully up to the tip-top of the tree and perched on the highest branch like a bird. There he sat blissfully and breathed in the warm, fresh air, the scent of the trees. "Ah!" he said happily. "I feel almost young again!"

"You're not that old," Gimli grumbled.

"Only near four times your age," Legolas said, feigning nonchalance. He leaned back and stretched contentedly. "What I would not give to be back in the halls of my father once again," he murmured. "And I soon will be..."

Later that evening, only a few insignificant preparations need be done before the first colonists arrived, and Gimli was enjoying a bit of much-needed relaxation with a mug of dwarven beer. Only a few minutes had passed when he heard Legolas in a nearby passageway. Gimli thought he heard the elf saying, "Yes, you must meet him at once. Right this way, please."

Gimli leapt to his feet instantly. Nobody was supposed to arrive until later in the afternoon! Why hadn't Legolas warned him? Quickly, he downed the last of his beer and discarded his mug carelessly on the table, hurriedly wiping the foam from his beard and failing miserably.

But he had no more time to prepare, for in came Legolas, looking mischievous and rather pleased with himself, and trailing a small group of dwarves. "Hoy! Gimli!" he called. "These kind folk have arried early!"

At the forefront stood a grey-haired dwarf wearing a forest-green travelling hood. He wore a golden belt of dwarf-make, adorned with glittering emeralds, and he looked important. Now he stepped forward and said, "Greetings, Gimli son of Gloin and Lord of the Glittering Caves. My name is Bjorr son of Brar, and my companions are Dalli, Falki, and Holfi sons of Holmdorr. The other is Finna, my daughter."

The three brothers were all similar-looking brown-haired dwarves, bright-eyed and perky, but it was the other who caught Gimli's attention. Standing shyly at the back with her hood near covering her face, Gimli could just catch a glimpse of glittering blue eyes hid bashfully by a short fringe of eyelashes. A short plaited beard, golden and silky, had been tucked into her red travelling cloak, and wisps of unruly golden hair escaped her crimson hood.

"Ah, yes," said Gimli. "Welcome, welcome! Although you are early I am very glad to see you. Now, have you put your things in the front hall?"

"Yes," said Bjorr. "We have tied up our ponies to the stakes set out for us."

"Good, good. Now we must figure out some makeshift sleeping arrangements," said Gimli. "I have only a precious few beds as of yet, so of course the lady Finna must have one."

"Bjorr may have mine," said Falki generously.

"Yes, we will sleep on the floor," Dalli agreed.

"No need for that. I think we should have just enough beds for all of you," Gimli said. "Now come! We must unload the packs!"

As Gimli and Legolas led the way back to the roomy front hall, Legolas murmured, "She seems nice."

Gimli looked at Legolas' smirking face and rolled his eyes. "You sound like my mother."


	3. Sewing In The Kitchen

The next morning, Gimli rose early in hopes that the rest of the colonists would arrive that day. Bjorr and the brothers had informed him that the rest of the dwarves were only about a day's journey behind them.

When he got to the front hall, he saw Bjorr, Dalli, Falki, and Holfi, already wide-awake and cheery. Dalli and Falki were hammering away at the first nails of a bed-frame, and Holfi was diligently sawing some table legs. Bjorr was acting as taskmaster while also sharpening the saw-blades.

"Fine work, lads," Gimli commented. "Thank you for all your help."

"And thank you for all _your_ help, lord Gimli!" Holfi said cheerily.

"Much obliged, much obliged," Gimli said politely. "And where is Legolas?"

"The elf?" Bjorr frowned. "Still abed, I suppose."

"Nay," said Gimli. "He does not sleep late. I guess he is working on something or other. But where is the lady Finna?"

Bjorr looked up sharply. "She is in the kitchen," he said. "I sent her to bake bread."

"I see," said Gimli, twisting the end of his beard thoughtfully. "I will go look for Legolas and help him with whatever he is doing. You continue making furniture; I see you are very skilled at it."

The elder dwarf smiled warmly. "I am the chief carpenter back home," he said, "and these three lads are my apprentices."

Gimli returned the smile and exited the room, hoping to find Legolas quickly. Almost mindlessly he swept through the rough-hewn tunnels, finding room after empty room. At last he found himself at the kitchen, and thinking, "He won't be in there," Gimli passed by. But then he heard the elf's voice, loud and happy, echoing through the cave tunnels! He dashed into the kitchen and cried, "Legolas! A merry goose-hunt you have led me on!" But his words died on his lips when he saw Finna, flushed and smiling, her blue eyes twinkling happily.

"Hello, friend dwarf," Legolas said, grinning. "The lady Finna and I were just sharing a light-hearted moment."

"What are you doing in the kitchen, you silly elf?" Gimli grumbled.

Legolas held up a needle and thread. "Sewing," he said matter-of-factly.

"Sewing?" Gimli spluttered. "Surely you jest!"

"Well, someone needs to make the bedsheets," said Legolas. "The colonists can't sleep simply on wooden bed frames!"

"Sewing is women's work!"

Legolas looked shocked. "In Mirkwood, both ellyth and ellyn sew. And besides, Finna is busy baking bread."

She nodded innocently and held up a wooden spoon. "What are you busy doing, lord Gimli?" she asked coolly.

"Um, oh, well, I just came from the front hall, and uh-"

"In other words, nothing," said Finna. "Get to work."

Gimli stood there rather awkwardly. He _had_ said he would help Legolas with whatever the elf was doing, but sewing? That was just ridiculous!

"I said, get to work," Finna repeated. "Help Legolas."

Gimli grudgingly plunked himself down at the table beside Legolas and absently picked up a needle. He didn't even know how to thread it.

"You sure are a forceful young lady, aren't you?" Gimli remarked as he fumbled to thread his needle.

Finna snatched the needle from Gimli's clumsy hands and deftly threaded it in one swift motion. "I have to be," she said. "With all these men around, it's hard for women to be recognized. They're just carted around, like packages. Yet treasured, like gold coins hidden away. They never see the light of day."

She turned back to her dough and started stirring again, hastily pulling her hood over her head. "But I will be different," she murmured.


	4. The Messenger

AN: Guess what? I'm not leaving this story to disappear in cyberspace! I was looking through all my old docs today and I was like hey, this is actually not a bad tale I've been spinning. I really wanted to continue it. I'm sorry for the year-plus hiatus! Thanks to those of you who reviewed and made me want to continue writing Dwarven Treasure! This is for you!

As predicted, it did not take long for the colonists to arrive, and before long, the Glittering Caves were filled with songs, laughter, and bustling activity. Gimli soon met Bjorr's wife, Freydis, who looked an awful lot like an older version of her daughter, Finna. He also had the pleasure of meeting Falki, Dalli, and Holfi's mother.

"You certainly are blessed with three fine young sons," Gimli complimented her.

Her eyes shone. "Have they well acquitted themselves? I am glad; it seems that maybe all my long years of mothering those mischievous boys have finally payed off!"

"To be sure," Gimi agreed. "They are careful and hard workers."

After the initial chatting and catching up, Gimli announced, "Bring out the ale!" The crowd sent up a raucous cheer, and barrels of liquor were rolled out. The celebration had begun.

The next morning, finding a dwarf without a hangover was a difficult task indeed. And unfortunately, due to unusual circumstances, someone had to. A young elf, hardly more than a boy by his people's standards, arrived just after dawn bearing an important message. To his dismay, everyone seemed to be asleep. The gates were left unguarded. The elven youth cautiously swung open the roughhewn temporary wooden gate and padded silently into the cave. It was dark, which unnerved him, but the sawing of several dwarf-snores told him there was nothing to fear. He took another slow step, and without warning the toe of his leather slipper caught on something soft. Something which went "Oof!" as he landed on it heavily.

The dwarf's sleepy eyes snapped open, landing directly on the messenger's frightened face. "What's this..." he mumbled. Squinting, he realized it was no dwarf. "Elf-spies!" he cried. "They have come to smother us all in our sleep! Awake, awake!"

Almost instantly, lights were kindled and weapons were at the ready. The hapless young messenger suddenly found himself surrounded by a score of dwarves, several axes at his throat and a good many arrows nocked and ready to spring loose.

"What business have you in the Glittering Caves, elf-child?" Bjorr asked sarcastically. "Come to spy on us and bring our secrets back to your master? Or were you planning to take us on all by yourself?"

"Please, good dwarf, I mean no harm-" the messenger stuttered.

"Of course you don't," Falki rolled his eyes.

"Prepare to meet your doom, thief," Finna growled, about to release her arrow-

"Stay your weapons!" Gimli cried, entering the room with great haste. "This is no spy! He is but a young boy for one of the Eldar. Only a fool would send such an inexperienced spy."

Finna released tension on the arrow, resting the bow by her side. The male dwarves let their guard down slightly and backed away from the messenger.

The messenger took a shaky breath. "Please sir, I only have a message I was bid to bring here. Where is Legolas Thranduilion?"

Gimli looked left and right, then howled down the main passageway, "Leeeeeegolaaaaas!"

When no response came, Gimli rolled his eyes and explained, "He's probably out climbing trees or frolicking in the flowers... elves." He sighed resignedly and said, "Let's go out and find him."

He exited the cave with the young messenger trailing him, happy to have survived the incident with Bjorr and his companions. Gimli surveyed the plains, squinting against the newly risen sun.

"Just as I thought," he said gruffly. "He's perched on that big hunk of rock over there. Legolas!" he called. "Message!"

The elf leapt up and darted over to them. "From whom?" he asked excitedly.

"Not Elen, if that's what you thought," Gimli chuckled.

"I didn't think that," said Legolas quickly. "I just like getting messages, that's all."

"It's from your father... uh, my liege," the nervous youth quavered. "Might I... um, congratulate you on your engagement?" He quickly added, "I didn't actually _read_ your letter. The scribe just mentioned it to me."

"Thank you," Legolas smiled. "And I'm not a liege. Just an elf."

The messenger looked scared.

"What I meant is, you can just call me Legolas."

"Oh. _Oh!_ Um... thank you. I had better be off now," the messenger explained awkwardly. He turned to go, realized he had forgotten to bow, whirled and bowed clumsily, then darted off towards the Greenwood.

"Wait!" Legolas called.

The youth turned.

"You forgot to give me the message."

He hurried back red-faced, stuffed an envelope stamped with the royal seal into Legolas' outstretched hand, and turned tail and ran.

"Awkward little thing, isn't he?" Gimli chuckled.

Legolas grinned. "Just like me when I was that age," he said.


	5. Legolas' Letter

"So..." Finna raised her eyebrows. "What was in the letter?"

The smile faded from Legolas' face as he looked down at his plate. It was dinnertime, and Finna was the first dwarf to give in to her insatiable curiosity. Gimli for one had been waiting all day to find out what news from the Greenwood had been so important it required a sealed letter.

"Not much," Legolas mumbled. "Just an update from home."

Gimli frowned. Surely that couldn't have been all? He knew that elven-kings did favour extravagance, but sending a letter for no good reason just seemed pointless.

Finna agreed. "What else?" she asked. "Letters are only for important things."

Legolas shook his head dismissively. "Just some legal nuances."

Gimli did happen to notice that, although his elf-friend shrugged off Finna's queries, he didn't touch any of the food on his plate for the rest of the night.

Legolas' moping went on all next morning and into the afternoon until finally, Gimli couldn't take it anymore. While the elf mindlessly stuffed a pillowcase with wild quail feathers, Gimli punched his arm lightly.

Legolas looked up at him warily. "What?"

"I um... have another job for you outside," Gimli lied.

"All right." Legolas got up and followed him. Gimli couldn't believe his friend had believed that lie; something was truly wrong in his world.

Once outside in the blazing sunlight, Gimli said straight up, "What was _really_ in that letter, Legolas?"

"Um..." Legolas paused. "So... where's that job you wanted me to do?"

Gimli sighed exasperatedly. "I made that up so we'd be out of earshot. I know you're depressed about something, and it's because of that letter. Now, I know you'll feel better if you tell me what it is. Right?"

"Right."

"Well?"

"Well... That letter did have some legal nuances in it. I didn't completely lie about that."

"Good. What _did_ you lie about?"

"That it wasn't much."

"So it was much?"

"Much."

Legolas sighed and gazed across the plain. His eyes got kind of a glazed over look, and Gimli waved his hand in front of Legolas' face. "Hello?"

"Okay, I'll get on with it," the elf said. "Anyways, I sent a letter to my father a few months ago that I intended to marry Elen. He wasn't responding, so instead of prolonging our courtship I decided to propose to her. I just could not marry anyone else, Gimli. I thought Ada would understand."

Gimli was beginning to comprehend the situation. It was worse than he thought. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots Legolas had laid out.

"He didn't?" Gimli asked.

Legolas heaved a sigh. "Well... it's like this. I am the son of the king. She is the daughter of a palace guard and a weaver. Therefore, a commoner."

"And your father doesn't approve?" Gimli asked warily.

"Not only that, but there is a law against it!" Legolas cried. "And Ada has already found me a bride! She's the daughter of his most trusted adviser."

"She could be nice..." Gimli ventured, then realized it was the wrong thing to say.

"She's not," Legolas said bitterly. "When we were children, she always used to call Elen 'Frog-face.' She knew Elen's always been sensitive about her wide mouth. And her mother is a court lady so of course she knew all the gossip around the palace, and when I was very small she told everyone that I still wet the bed."

"Did you?" Gimli asked.

"Like I said, I was _very small,_" Legolas snapped. "Anyways... Gimli, how can I get out of this situation? Ada doesn't even know that I've already proposed to Elen. Wait... if Ada doesn't yet know, then why did that messenger congratulate me on my engagement?"

Gimli gasped. "That must mean-"

"That Ada has already engaged me to Niniel!" Legolas exclaimed in horror. "Oh, what shall I do? This is terrible!"

"It'll be alright, elf," Gimli reassured him. "We'll find a way." Secretly, Gimli couldn't help noting that love suddenly was no longer as wonderful as Legolas had stated before.


	6. Gimli Ponders

**AN: Guys, omg, I haven't updated this fic in over 2 years. I guess I just kinda didn't have a plan for it, and stopped writing fanfiction altogether for awhile. I feel bad about that, since this story did actually have quite a few followers and reviews. So, I'm sorry about that, and if any of you are still out there, I'm going to try and work on it again and make it work. I want to know what happens to Gimli and Finna, too!**

Gimli awoke to raised voices the next morning. One was high and pleading and the other was calmer and lower. He tried to ignore them and go back to sleep, but then he heard, "...you can't leave! Not now when the colony is just beginning!" It was Finna. She sounded distressed, and Gimli thought he had better get up. It would be rude to leave her be.

He hauled himself out of bed, hastily tidying his tangled beard. He really ought to rebraid it today. Oh well, no time for that now. Gimli followed the voices to the front hall. Legolas was standing there with a bundle and light shoes for quick travelling. Ah. Gimli understood. Legolas was going home to deal with his marriage situation.

Finna was opposite him, looking up at Legolas with a forlorn look in her eyes. "I don't understand. Why are you leaving?" she asked sadly.

"I have to go. I'm needed at home," Legolas told her.

"But why?" Finna repeated.

Gimli stepped in. "Leave the laddie be, lass. Elves aren't fond of caves, you know that, and he's probably homesick."

Legolas smiled gratefully at him. "There aren't nearly enough trees here. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off before it gets too late. Early start and all that. I'll be back sometime though."

"All right," Finna said. "We'll make sure to leave most of the work until you return."

"Ha-ha," said Legolas. "Very funny. Now, goodbye! Good luck for everything!"

"Goodbye!" Gimli replied. "The same to you!" He gave his friend a meaningful look.

"I certainly hope so," Legolas murmured.

With his best friend gone, life slowly lapsed into a busy routine for Gimli. Wake up, work (usually building furniture or hollowing out rooms for inhabitants), eat breakfast, work, eat lunch, work, eat dinner, drink ale, go to bed. Repeat cycle. However, the colony was coming along quite well. Within several weeks, enough rooms had been either made or fixed up so that every dwarf had their own space. The rooms contained just bare bones: a bed at the very least and if you were lucky, a dresser. But they were functional. Already, many of the dwarf-women were hard at work weaving rugs to make the floors feel more homey.

A bright spot was a letter from Legolas, toted by the same nervous young messenger. He had written it just a few days after he had arrived home. All it said was, "I explained to Ada that I already proposed to Elen. He said that was unwise and that the law must be upheld. Wedding is set for September 4. Hope all is well with you."

As Gimli was reading it, he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. It was Finna. She looked somewhat shocked. "Legolas is getting _married_?"

"Well, against his will, yes," Gimli replied.

Finna looked relieved.

"But that's only because it's against the law for him to marry the girl he wants to marry," Gimli added.

"Oh," said Finna.

Finna seemed downcast over the next few days, and Gimli wondered why she cared that Legolas was getting married. After all, it wasn't as though she had a chance with him! For goodness' sakes, they were from different _species_! All the same, it seemed Finna had grown to care for Legolas in the short time she had known him. Gimli found it strange that she should prefer the elf's baby face and slim build to his own manly muscles and extravagant, well-cultivated beard. He wondered if perhaps it was Legolas' personality that attracted Finna. But he decided that was ridiculous.

Women are a mystery, he concluded, and that's all there is to it. No use trying to go and understand 'em.

All these bizarre ponderings about the fairer sex led Gimli to question what he really _did_ know about females. He had hardly known his own mother; she died when he was but twenty, a child by dwarf standards. He remembered that she had been an avid huntress. She would accompany the hunting parties, and, because of her keen eye, she was a master with her bow. Gimli recalled eating fresh venison his mother had killed, skinned, cleaned, carved, and roasted all in a day.

Gimi sighed and took a long swig of his ale, plunking it back down on the wooden table in front of him. Why was it that all he could remember about his mother was the food she made? What had her character actually been like?

He started making a list in his head: His mother had been brave. She had been a good cook. She had been clever, Gimli was pretty sure. Quick-witted, and funny at times. And then, oh, Gimli could still hear her laugh as if he had heard it yesterday. Her laugh! What a laugh. Not just a shallow giggle, or a merry chuckle. His mother's laugh was deep and loud, a great big belly laugh. Gimli's mother took her laughing seriously.

Yes, Gimli could completely understand why his father Gloin had fallen in love with his mother. He wondered if the same sort of thing would ever happen to him.

And how he would feel it it did.


	7. Finna Fights Back

**AN: I'm back! I think this story's actually taken a turn for the better! It's kinda weird, but sometimes with writer's block I find that just ****_writing _****can be a cure for it. Like sometimes when I force the words onto the paper, I actually come up with a good idea. Anyways, I think this could actually turn out really well! This is kind of a challenge for myself, as I used to be notorious for beginning stories and not finishing them. I'm older and wiser now, and I'm going to finish what I start!**

"I have to _what_?!" Finna shrieked.

"To secure our alliance with Rohan, we must create a treaty through marriage," Gimli explained calmly. "Rohan has offered up a young man of high standing and good character. His name is Everild, he is 25 years old, he is not bad-looking (for a man), and you will wed him in a fortnight."

"I will do no such thing," Finna stated calmly and clearly.

"It's for the good of the colony," Gimli protested.

"Why must it be me, then? Why not someone else?"

"You are the only dwarf-lass of age in our colony! Look around! We have mothers, grandmothers, and several dwarf-lasses who are not even a score. You are our only choice."

"This _Everild _you speak of is hardly more than a score himself," Finna retorted.

"Men age more quickly than we do," Gimli was quick to point out.

Finna clenched her fists and advanced towards Gimli. "Please understand, _Lord Gimli_," she said with steel in her voice, "that I am not a _package_ to be traded away, I am neither gold nor silver to buy Rohan's favour, and I am not a means to an end. I am Finna daughter of Bjorr, and I am my own person. I will make decisions for myself regarding who, or _if, _I marry."

Gimli's mouth was left hanging open in shock as Finna turned towards the door. "Think on it awhile, Lord Gimli," she told him on her way out. "Perhaps if you cannot find a woman to marry Everild, you might begin looking for a man. Why don't you start with yourself?"

It was an awkward dinner that night between careful allies. Gimli and his companions met with Eomer and his council, and Gimli had to find a way to break the news that the treaty would have to be made by a means other than marriage.

It took him almost the whole dinner to work up the courage to blurt out, "So, Eomer, about that, uh, marriage pact?"

"Oh, that?" Eomer put down his mug of ale and turned his attention to Gimli. "I'd almost forgotten! Have you found a suitable dwarf-woman for Everild?" He gave Everild, who was sitting beside him, a friendly nudge. "Not too hairy for you, I hope!"

Everild looked uncomfortable.

"Um, well…" Gimli began. "No, actually. We haven't got any suitable young dwarf-lasses in the colony as of yet. Dwarf women are quite rare, you know, and unfortunately-"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that! Everild, you must be so disappointed!"

"Ah yes, of course," Everild said, looking very relieved. "Very disappointed."

"Well," Eomer continued, "if you can't find any good dwarf-women, we've got lots of pretty girls if you're interested. A marriage pact between our two cultures is very important, because Helm's Deep has ever been our refuge, and it must be preserved."

Gimli looked puzzled. "So, I should find a dwarf worthy of a Rohirric woman?"

"Exactly!" said Eomer. "And who better than yourself? After all, you're the Lord of the Glittering Caves. And you need an heir."

"Well, uh, I'd never really considered-"

"How about my sister Elfhild?" Everild interjected.

"I'll keep her in mind as a possibility," Eomer said. "It's settled. I'll send out a royal edict in the morning. I'll find you a good bride. Don't worry, Lord Gimli!"

For the second time that day, Gimli gaped in shock. This could not be happening.

Gimli tossed and turned that night. Sleep just wouldn't come. Marriage was something he had never really envisioned for himself; he had always seen himself as more of a solitary creature, and could never imagine anyone actually wanting to spend a lifetime with him besides. Now, not only was Eomer asking for him to wed, but he was expected to wed someone of a different race whom he had never even met before! It was preposterous! The height difference, the culture shock, the physical differences, a half-breed for an heir… Gimli just couldn't fathom it.

And then a tiny voice at the back of his head whispered, _Wasn't that exactly what you were asking Finna to do?_

"It's different," Gimli tried to convince himself. "I'm the Lord of the Glittering Caves. I can do what's necessary for the survival of the colony. It's Finna's duty to obey my commands."

_Why would anyone obey a command from a lord who is unwilling to carry out his own command?_

"Shut up," Gimli told the voice. "I refuse to get married."

_What would Finna say if she finds out that you refused the very act that you told her was necessary?_

Gimli's eyes widened. He'd never hear the end of it, that's what would happen. His reputation was at stake, nay, his honour.

"Fine," he thought grudgingly. "I'll marry. How bad could it really be?"


	8. Correspondence And Confusion

**AN: Thank you to all my faithful readers, reviewers, and followers! Note: Faerdhinen (the name of my lovely little messenger/OC/minor character) is pronounced like the dh in Caras Galadhon. The elvish dh is pronounced like the th in "the."**

**And let the plot carry on…**

"Awful," was the beginning of Legolas' next letter. The usually articulate elf had been so distressed, he had abandoned delicate prose in favour of what could conceivably be called a rant. Gimli skimmed the hastily-penned letter (written in a disorganized scrawl and covered in ink smudges). From it, he deciphered the fact that tensions had arisen between Legolas and his father, Niniel had run away with her lover, and Thranduil had cleared out nearly half of Mirkwood's forces in order to bring her back.

"Niniel doesn't seem as bad as I remember," Legolas had written, "and at least we agree on one thing: we both want to marry for love. What should we do, Gimli? Niniel and her lover can live happily, as long as they evade my father's troops, but I'm the prince. I can't very well run away from my own inheritance! Do you think I could convince Ada to change the law?"

"Haven't known too many elves to change their minds, ever," Gimli muttered. "Good luck with that one, laddie." He quickly scrawled off a short note suggesting an amendment.

"Bring this back to him, will you?" Gimli said not unkindly to the shy young elf-messenger. The elf nodded and ducked his head, but didn't move.

Gimli frowned. "Well, be on your way, lad!"

"Um, Lord Gimli, sir, if I may be so bold-" the young lad stuttered, then paused.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Will _you _be coming to visit Mirkwood anytime soon? I mean, perhaps he hasn't said it in his letters, but the prince is very stressed out right now, and having his best friend by his side could… well…" He trailed off, and then finished, "You could help him."

Gimli sighed. "That's a nice thought, but if you didn't know, I'm not only trying to begin a new colony here, but I'm also having some marriage problems of my own…" He reddened. "Shouldn't have said that."

"So you won't come?" The young elf's face fell.

"I didn't say that, now did I?" Gimli sighed. "Maybe. All right? Now be off with you, uh… er…"

"Faerdhinen," the boy said shyly. "My name's Faerdhinen." He rolled up the message, turned, and ran off.

He saddled his horse and made sure it was groomed and fed. It was a long journey from Rohan back home to the woodland realm, and both horse and rider needed to be in good health. Faerdhinen had made it from the Glittering Caves to the Halls of the Elven-King in a fortnight before, but that was in ideal conditions. One never knew what could happen on a solo journey across plain, river, and forest.

He checked his supplies. He still had a fair amount of lembas bread, and a bit of dried meat and fruit. For faithful Aredhel, he made a bran mash to prepare for the journey home. As he was feeding her, his keen elven ears picked up the soft thud-thud-thud of footsteps behind him. He whirled around. It was Finna.

"Here," she said awkwardly, holding out a folded-up piece of parchment.

"What's it for?" Faerdhinen asked.

"For Legolas," she said. "Would you please bring it to him?"

He started towards her. "O-okay," he said, confused.

"It's just some… encouragement," she tried to explain. "I know how he feels, an arranged marriage and all."

Faerdhinen frowned, remembering Gimli's earlier comment. "My lady?" he questioned. "Are you and Lord Gimli… engaged?"

Finna stood stock-still and stared at him. "Wha… what gave you _that _idea? O-of course we're not _engaged_! He tried to _force _me to marry a Rohirric man! How did that idea find its way into your head?"

Embarrassed now, the shy messenger blushed to the tips of his pointed ears and looked at the ground. "Well," he started, "it's just something Lord Gimli said…"

"What did he say?"

"He said he was having 'marriage problems,'" Faerdhinen muttered. "I'm sorry, my lady, when you mentioned marriage as well, I put two and two together-"

"And came out with five," Finna finished. "Gimli and I are about as likely to get married as two and two is to make five. Run along now, and give my letter to Legolas, all right?"

Faerdhinen didn't need any further encouragement to get on his horse and get out of there.

For a week, Gimli didn't hear a word back from Eomer. He dared to hope that possibly Eomer had forgotten all about his promise of a Rohirric bride, but unfortunately, he was afforded no such luck. Eomer and company rode through Helm's Deep and knocked on the gate of the Glittering Caves one fine Saturday morning.

Dalli, one of the guards, called out, "What business have you this fine morn, King Eomer?"

"We seek Lord Gimli. Would you have a message brought to him? Tell him to be ready at the front gate by mid-day. We ride for Edoras," Eomer replied.

Dalli ran down to Gimli's chambers. "Lord Gimli!" he cried, knocking on the door. "Lord Gimli! King Eomer requests your presence at the front gate by mid-day! I think it's something important."

Gimli opened his eyes and groaned. It was happening, whether he liked it or not. Today he would meet his future wife.


	9. Gimli Meets Girls

**AN: Thanks for following, reading, and reviewing! Short-ish chapter, but I wanted to get something up so I can start focusing on the next chapter. Things have been set in motion that cannot be undone…. **

"All right," said Eomer, tightening the girth on his mount's saddle. "Lord Gimli, you're looking well this morning. Shall I describe for you what we have planned?"

Gimli sat grumpily on his pony. "Might as well get it over with," he muttered.

"We've planned a dance," the king announced, jumping up onto his horse and swinging his other leg over the saddle. "At the end of which, you will choose your bride."

Gimli choked. "Wha-what? That fast? You expect me to pick a wife within the space of _one_ evening?!"

"Well, yes. We do these sorts of things in Rohan all the time."

"King Eomer, you must understand that dwarves go about these sort of things much… er… slower. Would you at least give me some time to think about it?" Gimli pleaded.

"Well, I suppose you could have a bit longer. But no more than a fortnight. My advisers are eager to wrap up this treaty," the king allowed. He raised his voice and called to his several companions, "We ride southeast!"

Gimli didn't mention that even with a fortnight to think about it, getting married to a strange human women was never something he had wished for or even imagined. But before he could start feeling too sorry for himself, that annoying voice in the back of his mind felt it pertinent to mention, "_I'm sure Finna never envisioned marrying a human stranger, either, but that's exactly what you wanted to make her do." _

He could kind of understand why Finna had been so adamant against it.

"Your beard is so long, Lord Gimli!" a buxom blonde exclaimed, reaching out an eager hand.

"DON'T touch the beard!" Gimli cried instinctively. He instantly felt bad for snapping, but the blonde whose name escaped him only laughed and replied, "Looks like someone's pretty protective!"

"How long does it take you to do your hair in the morning?" a slim honey-haired maiden wanted to know. He was pretty sure that this one's name was Renna.

"Well, er… about an hour, when I do braid it. Most of the time I just leave the braids in overnight," he explained, feeling utterly awkward and out of his depth.

"That's amazing! I've never known a man to spend so much time on his hair! Although, you're not _quite_ a man, because you're a dwarf," a black-haired girl giggled.

Gimli was standing in the great hall of Meduseld clutching a mug of the famous Rohirric brew, surrounded by no less than fifteen women of high status and great beauty. Not to mention the fact that they were all at least a foot taller than him. The dancing had not yet actually begun, because Eomer insisted that they "get to know each other" a bit. However, Gimli had never been the best with names, and tonight was no exception. How was he supposed to choose a bride if he couldn't even remember her name?

"King Eomer told us that you rode to battle with him at the Black Gate?" the blonde gushed. Her name was Hilda? ...Helga? Gimli was focusing so hard on trying to remember her name that he almost forgot to respond.

"Ah, yes," he said. "I did."

Then he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Fortunately, the girls were more than willing to fill in the gaps in conversation.

"What does it look like?"

"Were you terribly frightened?"

"How many orcs did you slay?"

The questions came rapid-fire, and an overwhelmed Gimli floundered as he tried to answer them all satisfactorily. Amid the barrage of inquiries came a sharp piercing note from a keyed fiddle. The dance was about to begin. Gimli reluctantly set down his mug of ale and looked around at all the pairs of eyes that were fixed on him. He supposed he would have to ask one of them to dance. He could only remember about three names, so that severely limited his options.

"Renna?" he said, extending his hand gruffly to the honey-haired maiden. "May I have this dance?"

Renna smiled proudly to be chosen first. "Of course, Lord Gimli," she laughed. Her ears pricked up at the beginning notes of the song. "This is a famous folk-song among my people!" she cried. "It tells of the great deeds of Eorl the Young and the founding of Rohan. Come, let us dance!" She took his hand and led him merrily to the middle of the floor.


	10. The Wayward Heart

**AN: Oh my gosh, I'm excited to post this chapter! It's not super long, but it was SO satisfying to write. I was really able to let Finna just go at it and speak her mind, which women in Middle Earth don't often get to do. Anyways, I won't keep you much longer. Read and review, darlings! :)**

Gimli wasn't much of a dancer, but he had to admit that whirling around the flagstone hall to a merry old tune with a girl on his arm was much more fun than he would've imagined. He danced with all the girls over the course of the evening, but he danced with Renna the most. She was talkative, and had a lot of interesting details to offer about the history of the kingdom. She was well-educated, and, as he also found out, she had some experience with a sword. At the end of the evening, Eomer bid everyone goodnight, and announced that Gimli would be giving his decision in a fortnight. With that, the dance was over, and the hard part had begun: choosing a wife.

Gimli, back home and wide awake, wandered the halls aimlessly, his mind turning over the faces and names of all the girls he had danced with. Renna seemed the most likely option, but could he ever really love her? Would a marriage between them ever work?

Somehow, he found himself in the weaving hall, and he was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the quiet clinking of the wooden loom in the corner until its user spoke.

"How did it go?" Finna asked quietly.

Gimli jumped. "Mahal! I didn't know anyone was in here."

Finna put down her shuttle. "Well, here I am. How was it? Have you chosen your wife?"

Gimli sighed deeply. "Maybe," was all he said.

"So you've found someone you love."

He looked at her for a moment, and Finna thought she could detect sadness in his eyes. "No," he said.

"Then why are you doing this?" she asked.

"It's my duty. I am the Lord of the Glittering Caves, and if we must make an alliance with the men of Rohan, then I must make it. It's obvious, isn't it? It's my only choice. A leader must do what is best for the good of his people." Gimli said these words in a practiced way, as though he had to force himself to believe them.

Finna shook her head. "There are other ways, Gimli, beyond just marriage." She sighed. "Men can be so narrow-minded sometimes. You use women to make alliances for you, to make babies for you, to make dinner for you, to take care of the home for you."

"That's what women are," Gimli retorted. "That's what women are meant to do!"

Finna clenched her teeth and her voice rose. "Women aren't meant to be used! We're meant to be _loved_, Gimli. Why can't you see that? If you are simply using a girl of Rohan to form an alliance, you will never be able to love her! You want to set an example for your people, yes, but what kind of an example are you setting when you value duty over love?"

"Duty is more important than love!" he argued. "Duty means doing what needs to be done!"

"Then why is it," she said softly, "that so often the wayward heart neglects duty? Duty can be controlled, Gimli, and that is what limits it, but who tells the heart what it should do? Who, Gimli?"

Gimli stared at her.

"No one." Finna looked him full in the face, and her blue eyes flashed with passion. "No one tells the heart what to do. The heart does what it wants. It cannot be controlled, it cannot be contained. It is a wild thing that cannot be tamed, and _that _is why it will always be more powerful than duty. A good leader may rule with a sense of duty, and teach his people accordingly, but a great leader rules with love."

Gimli stood speechless, unable to respond to the eloquently voiced convictions of this young, enigmatic dwarrowmaid. He wondered how she could live from day to day with this much passion swirling inside. It was like striking a match and watching it instantly burst into flame.

"Who… who _are_ you?" he asked incredulously.

"I'm Finna," she replied, smiling for the first time in this conversation. "I'm a dwarrowmaid. I'm stubborn, and wild, and proud, and unapologetically myself. I'm not perfect, and I never will be. And who are you, exactly, Lord Gimli?"

Once again, Gimli found himself with no answer.

"I will be working on my weaving now," she said softly, turning back towards the hand loom in the corner. "Think on my words, Gimli. Goodnight."

She sat down and continued weaving the weft thread in between the warp threads, her signal that this conversation was now over. A dazed and confused Gimli left the hall and somehow managed to wander back to his own quarters.

He didn't get much sleep that night.


	11. An Alternate Solution

**AN: I'm really happy with the pace of this story, so far, how about you all? I mean, we all know what's going to happen, because of course I mentioned it in this story's description, but I hope you're all interested in ****_how _****it happens, too. I honestly think dwarves would be ****_really _****slow about this sort of thing. Especially Gimli, since he's so gruff! :)**

For the next few days, Gimli couldn't seem to get Finna's words out of his head. It was not for lack of trying; he desperately wanted to dismiss her accusations as folly and maintain that he was doing the right thing. But the more he thought on it, the more he wondered if he really would be using Renna's hand in marriage as a means to an end. And if so, would he be in the wrong?

The next letter he received from Legolas brought Finna's words to mind once again. He felt that his friend could use a forceful advocate like Finna when dealing with his traditional father. Legolas' situation was getting so drastic that Gimli wrote back asking if his presence in Mirkwood had any potential to help matters. Seeing as he was a dwarf, probably not, but it was at least worth a try. Apparently, Niniel and her lover had been found, captured, and were being held in Mirkwood's dungeons (an unpleasant place, Gloin had told him). Elen had been forced to flee in case Thranduil fancied capturing her as well.

Finna could sing the praises of true love as loudly as she liked, but Gimli couldn't help thinking that being thrown into a dungeon was a heavy price to pay for forsaking one's duty and following the yearnings of the heart. He, certainly, as Lord of the Glittering Caves, would never give in to such foolish desires.

He rolled up the letter and handed it to Faerdhinen. It seemed the boy never tired of riding back and forth between Helm's Deep and Mirkwood. "Make sure he's well, all right, laddie?"

Faerdhinen shook his head. "He's not," he said sadly. "I don't know how to make it better for him, Lord Gimli. I just think everyone should be able to marry for love."

Gimli stopped short. Therein lay the answer to his dilemma. This young elf-child had just revealed to him his own hypocrisy. Faerdhinen looked strangely at him before packing up the letter and riding off on his horse. Gimli just stood there and felt his mind implode with the new truth that had filled it.

_Poor Legolas, _he thought, _is far away in Mirkwood with a girl he loves and yet he is forbidden from marrying her. Yet here I am with a _choice _and I am about to choose to marry out of duty. _And for the first time he realized that he did have a choice. All along it was Legolas who was not in control of his own destiny. How horrible it would be, then, for him to see his friend willingly walk into the same trap that he was already hopelessly ensnared in!

He knew then what he had to do; no, what he chose to do. He would tell Eomer that he could not marry Renna, nor any other Rohirric woman, nor anyone whom he did not love.

Decision made, he found his way through the winding cave passage to the weaving hall. It was the only place where he thought he might find her. Sure enough, she was there with the other weavers, hard at work on her favourite loom in the corner. Bits of coloured thread lay strewn about her: on the floor, on the bench, and even in her hair and beard. But her unfinished project was beautiful. Near the very top, it was a deep blue-black dotted with silver stars, but as it went down it faded into a lovely fiery sunset colour. Finna was currently weaving the sun.

"Looking good," said Gimli, coming up behind her.

She was startled; and dropped the shuttle with a clatter as she whirled around. "Oh!" she cried. "Thank you, Gimli! What are you doing here?"

He stroked his beard nervously. "Well," he began. "You said there were other options… I mean, er, other than marriage… for an alliance?"

She raised an eyebrow curiously. "Yes?"

"Well… do you have any suggestions?"

She stood up, a big grin on her face. "Do I ever!"

Before long, they were in Gimli's private chambers, sitting at his great table of oak. Finna had the hefty book of ledgers and Gimli was making notes on a scroll. "So far, we've managed to extract about 38 pounds of mithril, 26 pounds of rubies, 18 of jasper, and 2 of diamond..." she murmured, trailing off as she did calculations in her head. "I can't really estimate how much more we'll find, but we could probably set up a trade partnership in which we agree to pay for staple crops with precious metals and gems."

Gimli scribbled that on his scroll. "Aye, that's a good idea, but we have to make sure we won't run out of ore. What about carpentry? We have some skilled woodworkers here and we could trade our goods to the men of Rohan."

"A fine idea!" Finna exclaimed. "And what about military aid? What are your policies on that?"

"We are to stand and fight at Helm's Deep if under attack," he replied. "What if we were to also use our crafting skills as part of an alliance? We could forge weapons and armour!"

"And anything else that needs to be made of metal," Finna nodded excitedly. "Now you're finally thinking about this the right way!"

For the next hour, they drew up separate documents outlining a trade agreement and a military alliance.

"Do you really think Eomer will accept this?" he asked nervously.

Finna thought for a moment. "He seems reasonable. I see no reason why one form of an alliance would be better than the other. A marriage alliance is really just a piece of paper that allows you to exchange a woman for peace, and a trade alliance is really just a piece of paper that allows you to exchange goods for peace. So I think he might be surprised at first, but he'll warm up to it."

Gimli looked skeptical.

"Don't worry!" she said, laughing. "It'll be _fine!_"


	12. A Toast Of Peace

**AN: Hello again! I haven't been getting any reviews lately, so I hope somebody out there is still reading this story! I'm going to see if I can get it added to some communities though. This chapter is heavy on plot, light on fluff, but more fluff is always forthcoming. I'm thinking of expanding on some of the minor characters, especially the Glittering Caves dwarves (who'd like to see some of Falki, Dalli, and Holfi? How about a protective dad Bjorr?). Also, there's still the matter of Legolas to handle! Enjoy!**

Gimli straightened his back, took a deep breath, and glanced down at Finna from above on his pony.

"You're doing the right thing to tell him sooner rather than later," she reassured him.

"That's right," he asserted. "It's better this way. Better to break the truth to him now than letting him get his hopes up for something that won't happen." Confident words, but the nervous look in his eyes betrayed him. He was going alone to Edoras to seek out a meeting with the king in order to discuss the documents he and Finna had recently drawn up, and if the meeting went poorly, the fate of the entire colony could be jeopardized.

"Well, good luck!" she said brightly, giving his pony a pat. He was off.

Upon reaching Edoras, it was nearly dark, but Gimli knew he should get done what needed to be done before resting from his journey. He tied up his pony in the stables and made it a nice hot mash before running up the stairs of Meduseld and knocking hard on the gilded door.

"Lord Gimli," said Hama, who was guarding the door. "What brings you here at so late an hour?"

"I request an audience with the king," he stated politely.

Hama looked curious.

"It concerns the alliance," he elaborated.

"Oh, of course," said Hama. "I'll let him know you've arrived." He held the door open for Gimli and bid him sit down. "Just wait here a moment, if you please."

He waited a long time in the great hall, but he didn't mind. It gave him time to gather his thoughts. He checked over his documents once more to make sure they were without fault.

Finally Eomer entered the room in royal regalia, flanked by two guards. "Master Dwarf!" he exclaimed. "I hear you're here about the alliance! Have you chosen a bride?"

Gimli rose to his feet and drew himself up to his full height. "I have not," he said firmly. Eomer looked surprised and confused, so he pressed on. "I have, however, made a decision. I have decided that marrying out of duty would not be in the best interest of my kingdom or yours, and I believe an arranged marriage would not be beneficial for either myself or whomever my bride would be. Now I am not neglecting the fact that an alliance still needs to be made. So I bring you this proposition…"

Over the next few hours, Gimli walked Eomer through the details of the potential trade agreement, and the two leaders worked out the finer details of the documents. Finna had been right; Eomer was skeptical at first but after seeing the benefits of Gimli's solution, he warmed to the idea. Together they made notes, added amendments, crunched some numbers, and then called it a night and set the royal scribe to copy out a finished manuscript.

"Shall we have a drink?" Eomer suggested.

"Of course we shall!" Gimli grinned. Eomer broke out a new botle of Rohan's finest, and together they toasted the success of the new colony and the fledgling alliance.

Gimli stayed the night in Edoras and then departed at daybreak. He felt so peaceful now that the negotiations were over, and he was thrilled to be heading back to the caves where he could continue building up the new colony. Most importantly, he felt freed from the burden of having to choose a wife.

He was home by about noon, and as soon as his pony was tended to, he was off to share the news. He went straight to the weaving room, but although the other weavers were busy at their looms, Finna's was occupied by Falki, the oldest of Holmdorr's sons. The loom was in pieces, and Falki was hard at work replacing the heddles.

"Where's Finna?" Gimli asked.

Falki stopped and looked up. "Her loom's broken," he said. "I think she might be sewing or something… she doesn't like her hands to be idle. Honestly, Lord Gimli, I think she's been working too hard! She's been weaving so much she broke her loom!"

Gimli frowned and thought for a moment. "So… she's sewing _where_?"

"Not sure," said Falki, turning back to his work. "Maybe in her private quarters."

"Thanks," said Gimli, unsatisfied. Obviously it was inappropriate to go into a dwarrowmaid's private quarters uninvited. He'd just have to tell her later.


	13. Touched

**AN: I honestly don't even know how this chapter came together. I was just writing and it just sort of… happened… and I'm REALLY happy with it. I feel like it explains a lot about why Finna is who she is. Be aware that this contains mature themes: the rating will not go up, because I will not explicitly describe certain events in Finna's past. Through her I hope to send a positive message to people who are or have been in her situation. Again, thanks to all my readers, followers, and reviewers. This one's for you :)**

It was dinnertime, and Gimli was distracted. He wanted to share his news with everyone, but Finna had played a chief role in the devising of the treaty, and he wanted her to be the first to know. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be found. Gimli pushed the food around on his plate, mixing cold meat into his mashed potatoes.

The good news was that many of the primary colonists were at this dinner. The main dining hall in the Glittering Caves could hold up to 200 dwarves, and the long low wooden table could seat approximately 50. Gimli looked up from his half-eaten meal and scanned the room for a female who could be sent to Finna's private quarters to fetch her. His eyes fell on Lifa, a young dwarrowmaid dark of hair and skin who was betrothed to Falki.

"Lifa!" he called, beckoning to her. She left her place at table and came up to him.

"Yes, Lord Gimli?" she said politely.

"Would you do me a favour and go tell Finna Bjorr's daughter that I request her presence at table? I believe she is presently in her chambers," he told her. She nodded and hurried off.

In a minute or two Lifa had returned alone. "She won't come, Lord Gimli. She wouldn't open her door," Lifa explained apologetically.

Gimli scowled. "Wouldn't come? What, she would ignore a direct order from her lord?"

"She said she was busy…" Lifa trailed off, bowing quickly and returning to her place.

Gimli rose up, cheeks stained red with anger. Didn't she care about the alliance? Wasn't she wondering how the meeting had gone? And how dare she ignore his summons? He stalked out of the room and down the hall, up the stone-cut stairs to the level with private living quarters, and looked at all the runes cut onto the doors before he came to one labelled "Finna."

He pounded on the door. "Finna!" he shouted. "Open this door! I don't expect you to ignore another command from your superior!"

A quiet voice came from within. "Well, then you don't know me very well."

"Enough with the smart talk!" Gimli called back. "Either you open the door or I'm coming in!"

"That's not much of a choice, now is it?"

Gimli turned the doorknob and kicked the door open irritably. Finna was sitting on her bed, her back to him, with knitting needles and a ball of thread lying abandoned on her pillow. "Shame on you, coming uninvited into a lady's quarters," she said calmly. "What's the matter, did you expect me to come when I'm called like a dog?"

Gimli, suddenly enraged, found himself right in front of her in two quick steps. Before he knew what he was doing, his hands were balled into tight angry fists. He made a quick jerky motion to stroke his beard (as he always did when angry to avoid boiling over) but when his open hand came up, Finna did something rather unexpected.

She flinched.

Gimli's hand rested on his beard and his eyes grew wide. All his anger melted away, and he whispered, "Lass… you… you didn't really think I'd-?"

She stared at her lap. "I-I didn't know..."

Her shoulders were trembling. Gimli stared at her and a realization began to crystallize in his mind. "Who hurt you?"

Her voice was barely audible. "M-my da's old apprentice… he..."

Shocked, Gimli sat down beside her at a safe distance. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry I frightened you. I was angry at you, but my anger was unfounded. I would never hurt you."

She raised her head and her eyes shone with tears. "I'm sorry you had to see this," she whispered.

"It's not your fault, lass," he told her with a reassuring tone of voice. "But this dwarf who hurt you, where is he now? Is he gone? Because I won't let anyone-"

"His name was Vignir," Finna whispered. "He told me not to tell anyone or he'd do it again, even worse. But I told Da."

"Your Da gave him what-for, right?" Gimli asked. "Do I need to go find this son of an orc and do it again?"

"No," Finna sniffed. "I've never seen Da so furious. Vignir is long gone."

They sat in silence together for awhile, both deep in thought. Gimli was afraid to reach out and touch Finna, and she was afraid to be touched. So both of them kept their distance. Gimli finally broke the silence. "I can see why you didn't want to get married. I'm sorry I was… I-I'm sorry about all that," he finished awkwardly.

"You didn't know," she said hoarsely. "Actually, when Lifa came to the door and told me you wanted me, I didn't come because… because, well, _look_."

She held out a fist and opened her hand to reveal a tiny red bead carved from wood. Although Gimli wasn't exactly an expert on such matters, he instantly recognized it for what it was: a courting bead. It was customary for dwarves to give small beads to dwarrowmaids whom they wished to court. Red signified the first gift-bead of the courtship: if the relationship was to continue, many more would be forthcoming.

"It's from Dalli," Finna sighed.

"Well…" said Gimli, somewhat out of his depth. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know!" she cried. "I mean, I don't want to court him! I don't want to court anyone! Da thinks it's about time for me to get married, but I can't, I just _can't_!" Exasperated, she fiddled with one of her tiny blonde braids and looked up at Gimli. "What do you think I should do?"

Gimli blinked. This was the first time he'd ever been asked for courting advice. "You don't have to court anyone," he said.

"Gimli, you don't understand," she said sadly. "I… I _do _want to court someone, at least, if it's the _right _someone… but I'm afraid. I don't want anyone to touch me. I don't want anyone to know what he did to me. I don't want anyone… to look at me differently because of what he made me."

He looked her in the eyes. "Finna, he doesn't have the power to _make _you anything," he told her seriously. "You get to choose who you are. No one else can change that."

Finna's eyes brimmed with tears. "Thank you," she whispered.

There was a long pause, and Gimli stood up somewhat awkwardly. "W-well, er-"

"I-I think I'll be working on my knitting now," Finna said quickly, gesturing to the stray needles and abandoned ball of yarn that lay on her pillow.

"Of course," Gimli said, turning towards the door. "Good evening, Finna."

"Good evening," she called after him, taking up her needles and allowing herself just the slightest of smiles.


	14. An Unfortunate Facial Betrayal

**AN: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE! I hope someone reads this, oh my gosh. It just sort of unfolded as I was writing it and I'm very proud of it (except for the fact that I am currently neglecting my homework because of it). Anyways, I said fluff was forthcoming, right? ;) **

"Lord Gimli! Lord Gimli!"

Faerdhinen came running headlong through the great hall the next evening at dinner. All heads turned and stared at him wonderingly. The elf-boy covered the last stretch of stone floor in leaps and bounds, and landed lightly on his feet at the head of the table beside Gimli's chair. Breathlessly he exclaimed, "Lord Gimli, it's Legolas! He… he…" Faerdhinen was panting heavily, and couldn't get the words out.

Gimli stood up quickly, eyes wide. "Is he okay? Is he hurt? What's happened, lad?"

Faerdhinen held out the letter and bent over to regain his breath. "Did the child run all the way here?" Bjorr wondered aloud.

Gimli tore open the seal and began scanning the letter. Fear was in his eyes, and his mind was racing. All kinds of gruesome possibilities flashed through his head. But he quickly saw that Legolas' letter did not have a tone of tragedy, but one of… _joy._

"You had me worried sick, you did!" he cried, glaring at Faerdhinen. But he was too happy to keep the angry expression on his face.

"What does it say?" Finna asked eagerly. "What news from Mirkwood?"

"As you know, Legolas' father, the Elvenking, had arranged a betrothal between him and Niniel, daughter of one of his chief advisers," Gimli reiterated, speaking mostly to Finna but summarizing the situation for the benefit of his other listeners. "Niniel and Legolas were both opposed to the match. It seems that Niniel's father has bargained on her behalf and has offered to pay a hefty ransom for her release from captivity and her release from the engagement. Thranduil has accepted."

"So does this mean that Legolas and Niniel are both allowed to marry for love?" Finna asked.

"Legolas wrote that his father is working out the nuances of a new amendment to the law against marriage between royalty and commoners," Gimli explained. "It's the perfect solution: the law is not being changed or abolished, simply amended. So Thranduil's pride remains intact. And he actually ended up profiting from the whole thing!"

"Well, you've got to admire his way of turning a situation," Finna stated wryly. "What's the amendment?"

Gimli scanned the letter and read aloud, "'If a royal wishes to marry a commoner, that commoner must hold a position in Mirkwood's central government…' Looks like they're going to find a way to get Elen onto the council."

Finna smiled. "I'm glad it's all going to work out for Legolas. He deserves it."

"Doesn't he?" Faerdhinen jumped in. "Well, are you going to come to his wedding?"

Gimli and Finna looked at each other. "...If we're invited," said Gimli, surprised.

"If we're welcome," she added.

"I hope you do come," Faerdhinen said shyly. "I mean, some elves still don't like dwarves much… but I think things are a bit different now. It's a new age. I… I like dwarves." He blushed and ducked his head.

"We like you too, Faerdhinen," Finna said honestly, only causing his blush to deepen.

After dinner Finna asked Gimli, "Do you think we'll _really _be invited to Legolas' wedding? To see _elves?"_

Gimli shrugged. "If it's up to Legolas' father, then I highly doubt it. But Legolas seems keen on having me there."

"Did he… say anything about me?" she asked hopefully.

Gimli reddened slightly. "He told me to bring you with me."

Finna grinned. "I hope we get to go then!" she cried. "I've never seen Mirkwood."

"I thought you'd be sad," Gimli mused, looking at her a bit strangely.

She frowned. "What? Really? Why?"

"Well, I thought you… er… well, you seemed to… uh… have feelings for Legolas?"

Finna laughed. "I did, or at least I thought I did for a brief while. But I realized that was because of the way he acted towards me. He treats me like a person, Gimli. Dwarrowmaids are so often considered to be things. Precious things, mind you, but still things, incapable of acting or speaking for themselves. So... I was surprised and flattered at first by the way he spoke to me. Now, I realize that I deserve that kind of treatment from everyone." She stroked her beard idly and finished, "I'm happy for Legolas. Perhaps someday, I'll find someone else who sees me for who I am."

Gimli murmured something inaudible, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Sorry, what was that?" she asked.

"I said, how do _I_ compare?" he repeated very quietly.

Finna looked startled. She mused for a moment, and then said, "Quite fairly, I think. At least, you're coming along well. At the beginning I thought you were horrid but I think I've had an effect on you. There's still room for improvement, but…" She trailed off. "I don't know, what do you think?"

She tried to make eye contact with Gimli but he didn't look up. "I think it's time for a mug of ale," he said gruffly, getting up from the table. But the trace of a blush on his cheeks spoke louder than a thousand words.


	15. Family Matters

**AN: Yay for minor characters! I decided to flesh out Finna's parents a bit more. I'm honestly not sure how long this fic is going to be, but I'm really interested in the backgrounds of the minor characters too. I'm finding out more about them as it goes along :)**

On her way back to her room that night, Finna ran into her father in the hallway. "Finna," he said, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. "We need to have a talk."

He looked serious, which scared her. "I-I'm quite tired, Da," she protested. "I'm just going to-"

"This is important," Bjorr interrupted her. "I've given Dalli permission to court you. What are you going to do about it?"

She scowled at him and turned away. "Nothing, of course! I've no interest in him or any other potential suitors."

"Finna," he pleaded. "What are we to do with you? One day, Mam and I will be gone, and we want you to be safe and secure."

Blue eyes flashed and golden hair whipped around. "As if you'd done such a good job of that!"

Bjorr recoiled. His face crumpled and tears welled in his eyes as waves of guilt and shame washed over him. His greatest regret was taking on an apprentice who had hurt his daughter. "You're right," he whispered. "It's my fault. I'm sorry, Finna. I've only ever wanted to protect you, and I failed."

Finna's features softened when she saw the effect her words had had on her father. "It's not your fault, Da. I didn't mean that," she apologized. "I only meant that I don't need to get married to be protected. Marriage won't make a difference."

"Of course it will," argued Bjorr. "If only you had a strong husband to protect you-"

"Da, you don't understand!" she cried. "Men aren't the solution! Men are the problem! I trusted Vignir. He was kind to me, at first, but he hurt me, Da. Some men are good, I know that, but when I meet them, how can I tell if they're safe or dangerous? How can I tell, Da?" She tried desperately to wipe the tears out of her eyes.

Bjorr stepped towards Finna and hugged her, enveloping her in his strong arms. "My daughter," he whispered. "I don't know. I don't know how to fix this for you, Finna."

She took a deep breath. "I have to learn to trust again," she whispered. "I trust Legolas, Da. I think… I think I realized he was safe when I saw him talking so kindly to Gimli. I suppose… you begin to trust someone when they have an opportunity to hurt you, and instead they treat you kindly."

Bjorr relaxed his arms and looked his daughter in the eyes. "Well, that's one good man you know," he said wryly.

"Oh, Da, of course you're one of them too," she told him, her eyes still bright with tears.

He smiled and replied, "That's a short list."

"I'm working on it," she said bravely.

"That's my lass."

/

"You're back late, darling," said Freydis sleepily, peering at her husband from their bed. Bjorr shut the door and hung up his coat.

"I was talking to our daughter," he explained, stripping off his outer clothing and climbing into bed.

"About what?" she yawned.

"She's been gifted a courting-bead," said Bjorr.

"About time!" his wife exclaimed. "She's been spending every spare moment with Lord Gimli these past few weeks."

Bjorr sputtered. "From Gimli? Are you mad, dear? The courting-bead was from Dalli!"

"Are _you _mad, dear?" Freydis retorted. "Have you not seen the Lord Gimli stealing looks at our daughter during dinner? Do you not recall how upset he became when she ignored his summons? And who was the one who convinced him to dissolve the marriage alliance with Rohan? Our Finna! Who could blame me for assuming it was he who gifted her the bead?"

Bjorr stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, yes, I suppose you _do _have a point there… But Freydis, Finna has told me she doesn't want to court anyone. I won't force it upon her."

"Of course not," she replied. "I wouldn't either. I want the best for her, just like you do. If she does decide to court a dwarrow, it would take her a long time to warm up to him."

"All I've got left to say about it is, if she remains single, the dwarrows of the Glittering Caves will really be missing out," Bjorr grinned.

"We raised a good one, didn't we, Bjorr?" Freydis murmured, running her fingers through his beard.

"We did, Freydis," he answered, and kissed her.


	16. Strange Things

**AN: Somewhat of a shorter chapter, but I thought this was a good place to end it. Gimli's beginning to feel a bit strange, folks. What a confusing turn of events (for him)!**

Gimli was hard at work deep in the lower tunnels of the cave system. He put down his pickaxe for a momentary break to wipe the sweat off his brow and to have a drink of water. He was overseeing a massive mining operation which aimed to extract the large quantities of mithril that crisscrossed through the bedrock. His crew was headed by Tyr, Ufeigr, and Aki, who then directed a much larger crew of labourers. Progress was good. So far, yields had been surprisingly plentiful.

But for some reason, Gimli simply wasn't satisfied.

He'd been working hard lately. Maybe that was it. Perhaps he was running himself down. A night in with his feet up and a foamy mug of ale would soon remedy that.

He worked through dinner, only stopping briefly to eat some dried beef and hard bread he had packed for himself in the morning. He munched on the bread rather miserably, imagining the bounty that would be served on his table several levels above him, idly wondering why he cared so much that he was missing dinner. For a moment, an image of Finna surfaced in his mind, but he quickly pushed it away. She made him feel utterly foolish and wrong about everything. He reminded himself once again that she was far too assertive for a dwarrowmaid and had no respect for authority. But he couldn't forget the look of fear on her face when she'd flinched, nor the trembling of her shoulders…

He shoved the thought to the back of his mind and stuffed the last bit of bread into his mouth. These kind of thoughts weren't going to help him get anything productive done. He took up his pickaxe and began hacking away furiously at a mithril vein.

"Gimli!"

A clear, joyful voice interrupted his thoughts, startling him. The call came again. "Gimli!"

A week had come and gone, and Gimli's crew had made considerable progress on extracting the mithril deep in the Glittering Caves. Aki had stumbled upon a large crystallized deposit of ruby, and part of the mining crew had been diverted to carefully separate it from the surrounding rock. It was difficult, delicate work, and Gimli was rooting around in his toolbox for a chisel the right size.

"Gimli!" Finna called, leaping over piles of rock and slag. She had a large square envelope in one hand. "Look what Faerdhinen brought!"

Her face was flushed from running, and her eyes were bright. Flyaway golden hairs escaped her braids and framed her face like a halo. Gimli felt his pulse quicken.

He ignored it. "What did he bring?" he asked, laying aside his toolbox.

"Open it and see!" she replied.

He took the proffered envelope and broke the seal (Mirkwood's). He slid out a card with a very formal script written in gold ink. "It's… an invitation?"

"To Legolas' wedding!" Finna exclaimed. "It's a _royal _occasion, and we're invited! Look, there are our names on it!" She pointed to the inscription at the very top, which read, "To Lord Gimli of the Glittering Caves, and any guests he may wish to bring with him as a peaceful delegation to represent the colony, with special invitation to Finna Bjorr's daughter." "_Special_ invitation!" she grinned.

Gimli noticed the date at the top. "Wedding's in December," he grumbled. "What an awful time for travelling."

"I'm sure we'll be fine!" said Finna. "And besides, this is important. He's your friend. You'd want him to come to _your_ wedding, right?"

"Who says I'm getting married?" he muttered.

"Well, lords do tend to get married, even if they're as gruff as you are," she laughed. "I'm sure that _someday _you'll find someone."

_Am I really so undesirable? _Gimli wondered. He attempted a chuckle to show that her joke meant nothing to him, but on the inside he couldn't help but feel somewhat wounded. A small part of him wondered when her opinions had come to mean so much to him.

"We're going, though, right?" she added, interrupting his confused thoughts. "To Legolas' wedding, I mean."

"A blizzard couldn't keep me away," he promised, smiling at the overjoyed look on her face. "We'll start preparing supplies at once."


	17. Hitting The Road

**AN: Now we'll finally get to see some more of the minor characters! Thanks again for reading and reviewing! I suddenly have a lot more ideas for this story, and I'm in the midst of weaving in a new plot arc. I also have a minor, yet quirky plot twist coming up :)**

As it was now late October, and the journey would take over a fortnight in the best of conditions, they had to do everything in haste. Saddles were mended, warm clothing was knitted, _cram_ was baked, axes were sharpened (for self-defense, of course, although unfortunately some of the dwarves may very well have liked to test out their new blades on the neck of an elf), and a company was formed. This last item took over by far the buik of Gimli's thought and consideration. He and Finna were going, that was for certain. He would have liked to take her father as well (female dwarves were always _very _well protected when travelling) but he meant to leave Bjorr in charge in his stead. Holmdorr and his sons seemed like viable options, but he couldn't leave the colony without a skilled carpenter. Aki's keen eyes could be useful on the journey northeast, but they could also be useful at home finding valuable metals and gemstones.

This was somewhat of a dilemma, so naturally, he broached the subject to Finna. And naturally, she had a suggestion. "Simply ask them, Gimli," she said. "Make an announcement at dinner for anyone who'd like to go. Then you can go about singling those out whom you'd ideally _like _to bring with you, and ask them who they could leave in their stead."

This seemed pretty sensible, and Gimli couldn't really think of a better solution, so that evening at dinner he called for a meeting of any who wished to attend the prince's wedding and form peace ties with the elves of Mirkwood.

After dinner, those who were interested were asked to remain, and Gimli was left with a random and rather pitiful turnout. Falki and Lifa, the newlyweds, were arguing (Lifa wanted to explore but Falki thought the journey would be too dangerous), Aki was sitting quietly and working through his third mug of ale, Holfi, the youngest of Holmdorr's sons, kept looking about him as though he had committed some punishable offense, and Natin, a swordsmith who had been quite out of work these days, sat beside him looking bored. Gimli almost didn't notice him at first, but a strange golden-haired dwarf sat near the door. He wore finely tanned leathers and brightly coloured beads in his hair and beard, and had a pleasant-looking face.

"All right, so we have Falki, Lifa, Finna, Aki, Holfi, Natin, and…" Gimli paused when he came to the golden-haired stranger. "Griniv," the dwarf quickly supplied, smiling pleasantly. "I'm a new arrival. Tanning is my trade."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he replied, impressed. Dwarves, as you may have already realized, are not renowned for their manners. Gimli then turned his attention to the entire group. "I am right in assuming, then, that all of you have reasons for which you wish to attend this wedding?"

"I want to explore the world," Lifa murmured dreamily. Her husband shot her a look, and she at least tried to look remorseful.

"Let me just remind you all that our purpose in this mission is twofold," Gimli asserted. "Firstly, for personal reasons: as you know, I travelled with Legolas and fought with him in the War of the Ring, and we have become unlikely friends, so I wish to support him and help him celebrate his marriage. Secondly, Legolas has allowed me to bring guests of my own with which to establish diplomatic relations between Mirkwood and the Glittering Caves colony. May I remind you that the Elvenking can be difficult to reason with. He is very proud, and easily irked. Those who wish to accompany me must swear to speak with politeness and the utmost respect for Mirkwood's royals. Are we clear?"

The group collectively nodded.

"All right, now Finna and I have laid out a brief contract. If you have made the decision to travel with us, please sign your name on this parchment," he said, holding up a quill and passing around the parchment. All who were present signed (though Falki and Natin looked quite reluctant).

Throughout the next few days, Gimli managed to corner Bjorr and Holmdorr to discuss the journey. Bjorr was adamant against Finna's going at first, but Holmdorr managed to convince him by offering his eldest son, Dalli, to accompany her.

"After all," he argued, "he has already gifted her with a courting bead. He will protect her above his own life, I swear to it. And perhaps this journey will bring them together and cause Finna to realize her love for Dalli. I know that you wish to see her happily married."

Bjorr, although he still harboured some reservations about sending his daughter off into the blue, could not contend against this logic, and agreed to remain behind and look after the Caves in Gimli's stead. And so it was settled: Gimli would lead a company consisting of himself, Finna, Holmdorr's three sons, Lifa, Aki (the miner), Natin (the swordsmith), and Griniv, the jovial tanner. Preparations were completed, ponies were shod, goodbyes were said, and the delegation departed on a clear, cold day on the first of November. A new adventure was about to begin.

**AN: Oooooooo, Dalli's going to protect Finna! What's Gimli going to have to say about that? ****Also, there somehow ended up being 9 walkers… I didn't plan that but somehow it worked out that way.**


	18. Telling Tales

**AN: I changed the genre from Romance/Humour to Romance/Drama. After all, I am getting quite a bit more serious with this story! I think the beginning had a lot more funny parts, but now it's going in a different direction. I'll still keep adding in funny bits where they're suitable, but I felt that placing it in the Humour genre was a bit of false advertising. So that's the reason for the change! Enjoy this next chapter! **

"My ass is sore from sitting on this pony for so long," Natin whined. "Are we going to stop soon? I need a smoke."

It had only been a few hours, and Gimli was already seriously regretting taking him. "Not yet," he said, "for if we take that sort of a leisurely pace we shall not make make it to the Greenwood until spring, when the wedding is over and done."

"Are you feeling all right, Lady Finna?" Dalli asked gallantly.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she replied curtly. Gimli suppressed a sigh of relief. For all of Dalli's chivalry, Finna still had not braided his courting bead into her hair. Were she to do so, it would indicate that the courtship was to move forward and signify to him that he was to give the second courtship bead. But, the red bead was nowhere to be seen, and Gimli was merrier for it. Now, why exactly it cheered him, he couldn't answer in words. If asked, he probably would have replied that he simply hoped for Finna's well-being, and he knew of her wishes to remain single and wanted those to be respected. Whether or not he _believed_ this is debatable.

The group carried on in silence for quite some time across the great plains of the west-fold. Gimli had hoped to reach Smoke Rock before sundown, so they pressed on towards a dark blob on the horizon as the sky darkened into twilight. Finally, as the stars were coming out, they reached it. It was a safe place to shelter from the elements, and whatever predators might be prowling about during the night.

Griniv soon had a merry little fire going, around which they ate a hasty meal of cram and cured meat, and all of them were more than ready to get some sleep. There was very nearly a fight between Holfi and Natin about first watch ("I only came on this stupid trip because _you _wanted me to!" Natin had shouted, stomping away) but Griniv, gregarious despite the arduous day, politely offered to take first watch. Gimli sighed. Here, at least, was one dwarf he did _not _regret bringing.

He rolled out his bedroll, glancing over to his left where Finna and Lifa were settled in closest to the rock. They were calm and safe. Gimli lay down on his bedroll and almost instantly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

He woke at sunrise, when the first pale rays of light were beginning to wash over the plains. His first thought was to make sure that everyone was safe, especially the women. He lifted his head slightly. They were both still asleep. Satisfied, he rolled over with the intention of going right back to sleep, but instead he found himself staring right into Griniv's startled blue eyes.

"I thought you were on first watch," Gimli murmured sleepily. "Why… what are you-"

"I couldn't sleep," Griniv whispered. "So I just decided to take the last watch, too."

Gimli frowned, surprised. "Thanks," he whispered. "Keep an eye on the girls, okay? I'm trusting you to keep them safe."

Griniv smiled. "I'll do just that."

Gimli wasn't able to get any more sleep after that, but it didn't matter because everyone was up and about quite soon after dawn. If they were to make it to the Entwash today, it was imperative that they got an early start. Bedrolls were stowed, embers were stamped out, and the company hit the road again, eating cram on the way. Gimli had a feeling they would all be extremely sick of cram by the end of the journey. Maybe he'd have to ask Legolas for a lembas recipe while they were in Mirkwood. He hated to admit it, but elvish waybread tasted far, far, better than its dwarven counterpart.

Meanwhile, near the middle of the group, Finna and Lifa were getting better acquainted. At first their conversation had started out as mere small talk about the weather and the wedding, but as there was nothing else to do but talk and ride, the subject turned to more personal matters.

"How did you meet Falki?" Finna asked curiously.

Lifa laughed. "It's quite a long story."

"This is quite a long journey," Finna said, "so it must be a tale well suited to our setting."

"Well," said Lifa, smiling, "I am sure you can see by my looks that I come from a far-off land." Lifa was a dark-skinned dwarrowdam with smooth tanned skin that could only be the result of many hours spent in the sun. Her hair and beard were silky and black as soot, and her eyes were shaped most interestingly, like almonds.

"Certainly you don't look like any dwarf I've ever seen," Finna agreed. "Where is your home?"

"I am from the Far East," she replied. "Have you heard of the Orocarni?"

Finna shook her head. "I'm sorry, I haven't."

"Men call them the Red Mountains. They're far, far, away, past the Sea of Rhûn. It's very dry there, and harsh, but we lived well. My father was the messenger for the chief of our tribe, the Hawkhunters. The men of Rhûn began to grow wicked, and its king pledged allegiance to Sauron. He sent us an edict demanding our participation in the war, asking us to arm as many strong young dwarrow as we could and send them to the citadel in Dargovi. Our chief refused. He sent my father with a message to the king's representatives." Lifa paused for a moment, and Finna had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her voice thick with emotion, she whispered, "They sent us his head in a box."

Finna's eyes went wide and she gave a small gasp of shock and dismay. "I'm sorry I asked you to bring up such a painful memory, Lifa. I-I didn't know."

"You didn't," said Lifa, "and there is nothing you or I can do to change the tale. So I will continue telling it, because I have not yet answered your question." She continued, "We knew then that we had to flee. Under cover of nightfall, we left our lovely red caves and tunnels of sandstone. We had women and children, but very few mounts. Our journey northwest was slow and difficult. Water and food were hard to find. Some died along the way. But the Easterlings did not pursue us. They had already focused their attention elsewhere; doing Sauron's wicked work. By the grace of Mahal, we made it safely to the Iron Hills, where we took refuge. And that, dear Finna, is where I met my Falki. So in the end, it was not such a terrible tale after all, was it?" She smiled brightly.

"It did start out quite dreadfully," Finna replied with some reservation.

"Yes, it did, but it has a happy ending," said Lifa, her smile undimmed. "I believe in happy endings, Finna."

**AN: Thank goodness for the LOTR wiki for all that information about Rhûn! To be honest, we have no idea if there were dwarves living in the Red Mountains, but no one said there weren't any! Also, the name for the capital city of Rhûn came from the names of two regions in Mongolia, Darhan and Dornogovi. I see the Hawkhunter tribe as kind of similar to the Mongols, except they built caves in the Red Mountains and gave up their nomadic lifestyle. But they still use birds of prey for hunting (hence the name!).**

**UPDATE: I made some official art! Check it out! (Delete the spaces, fanfiction doesn't like links).**

www . ishkaqwiaidurugnul . tumblr post/110938688679/i-made-a-fanart-for-my-lotr-fanfic-dwarven


	19. Nothing Gold Can Stay

**AN: I stayed up really late to get this up! Hope it's well-received! (I'll keep editing it in the morning). Also, rumour has it that the link I posted last chapter can't be copied and pasted. I'm working on setting one of the drawings as the story's cover image, but fanfiction's image manager for some reason isn't working. Sorry about that :P **

Finna found the trip pleasanter now that she had found a good friend in Lifa. The talk made the long travel days and the restless nights seem far less arduous, and the two found all manner of things to talk about. Dalli by now had perceived that Finna did not wish to court him, and withdrew his advances, which improved matters even more. And Griniv, the tanner, she found to be jovial and courteous. She thought it strange, however, that he seemed reluctant to give any personal information about himself. Lifa had been an open book even when asked about the most traumatic details of her past, but Griniv would give shy one-word answers or attempt to change the subject. Finna couldn't decide if he was simply a very bashful dwarf, or if he was hiding something. Whatever the case, she nonetheless deemed him to be a very agreeable companion.

On the third day they reached the Entwash, and of course crossing that would be a significant challenge. They had to ride along the river for quite some time and keep testing the depths to see if it was shallow enough to go through.

Gimli rode cautiously ahead, slowly going deeper into the rushing water. He kept going until the icy water washed up around his boots. "It's too deep here!" he called back to the others. "We need to keep searching!"

Finna, twenty paces behind, cried, "I think I've found a shelf of rock here, it's a bit shallower!" She nudged her pony onward, and the skittish creature shied at her touch. Finna gasped as her pack came loose from its fastenings. Leaping in an attempt to rescue it, she fell out of her saddle with a cry of fear. In an instant, a nearby Griniv had sprung into action and caught her in midair.

Looking into his eyes with a mixture of shock and relief, Finna whispered, "Thanks."

"I'll always catch you," he replied gallantly, retrieving her soaking wet pack and helping her back into the saddle.

His ice-blue eyes met hers, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Let's keep moving!" Gimli said gruffly, riding past the two of them. "Finna's right. There's a shallow patch here." He made his way carefully to the middle of the river. "It's safe to cross."

Griniv raised his eyebrows. "I think he wanted to be the one to catch you."

Finna giggled. "Well then, he should have stayed a bit closer."

"Maybe I should stay a bit closer, just in case," he said with a cheeky grin.

Finna's smile dissolved, and she turned away from him. "That will be fine, thank you," she replied coldly.

/

"If you like Finna, you really ought to be less obvious about it."

Griniv whirled around, looking confused. "What?"

Lifa had cornered him after supper while he was tending to the ponies. By now, she knew Finna well enough to know what she wanted and what she didn't want, and she thought she'd stop this poor lad before he got his heart broken, or at least let him know that he was going about it all wrong.

"She doesn't like flirtatious dwarves like you. You'll have to work hard to gain her trust, not just expect it from the beginning," Lifa explained matter-of-factly.

"Are you saying I'm not good enough for her?" he asked defensively.

"No," she sighed, trying hard to be patient. "I'm just saying that if you want to court her, you'll have to treat her right."

"I've been nothing but courteous to her! I've-"

"Shh!" she hissed, clapping a hand over his mouth. "They'll hear if you talk too loud!"

"I've no idea what all this about," he mumbled from behind Lifa's hand.

"It's about protecting my friend," said Lifa. "Treat her right, I said."

"Of course I will," said Griniv. "I promise I'll always be there for her."

Lifa gave him a long, hard look, and then her lips curled into a hint of a smile. "All right," she said, sauntering off. "You better."

/

Now they were travelling across the Wold, another vast region of Rohirric plains between the Entwash and the Anduin. On the way back, Gimli had plans to buy their way onto a boat to travel downstream along the river, but unfortunately, Mirkwood was located upstream, and they would have to ride the entire way. Not for the first time on this journey was he realizing just the sheer amount of ground they had to cover. He almost regretted undertaking this ridiculous trip except for the great importance of his friend's wedding. That, and the fact that they'd get to stop and rest for awhile in the fair land of Lothlorien. He knew that the Lady of Light was long gone by now, off to the shores of Aman a world away, but even to look upon her land once again would bring back good memories for him. He reached up and touched the locket she had given him once. On the outside, it was rather rough and plain. It wasn't made of any special kind of metal, or set with any precious stones, and it was without marking. But on the inside it held a treasure of pure gold.

"Rather like yourself," the Lady of Light had smiled as she clasped three golden strands of her hair inside the locket.

Gimli sighed nostalgically. He wished he could somehow see her and thank her again, but she was in a place that he could never travel to. If only she knew how much her gift had changed the way he saw himself. Sometimes he still found it impossible to believe that someone like her had seen a heart of gold inside someone like him.

**AN: I'm really working with the symbolism of gold here (props to Robert Frost for the chapter title). Also, foreshadowing towards Gimli's sailing to Valinor! I really love his relationship with Galadriel and I want it to come into play more and more as the story goes along. I love the idea of him keeping the hairs in a locket (like, where else would he keep them?). **


	20. Revelations

**AN: Okay, clarification! I'm NOT going to make Gimli's relationship with Galadriel a romantic thing! Honestly I don't think that's what it was. I think he really just admired her a lot and she caused him to see elves in a different way. I think that their relationship was really important, because from both sides the two races misunderstood each other. Honestly, elf-dwarf friendships are just so important to me. So, don't misunderstand! **

**Anyways, enjoy this chapter darlings! It's the 20****th**** chapter! Isn't that great? Read and review (reviews honestly make my day!).**

The journey settled into a comfortable, yet tiring routine: wake up early (as well as sore all over and not fully rested), eat a hasty breakfast (_cram _every morning, until everyone was sick to death of it), and ride until it grew dark, or until they found a safe place to camp for the night. The days were still growing ever shorter, and their heavy furs could not keep out the bite of the cold wind as it whistled over the rugged slopes of the Wold. Gimli was sure to check in with Finna and Lifa every so often, just to make sure they were all right, but he had the impression that Finna in particular found it irritating. He wasn't sure why. It was only out of concern for her well-being, after all (nothing more). And yet she allowed Griniv to help her down from the saddle, to get her wraps, to pick up her pack… Would it never end?

Still, Griniv was always courteous and cheerful, and he took it upon himself to do a large portion of the daily work. Gimli couldn't find it in his heart to hate him or even dislike him, much as he wished he could find a reason to. The more he saw Griniv or Dalli helping Finna, the more he wanted to be the one to help her instead. As the days passed, he began to realize how he longed to speak to her. A simple smile from her directed his way could improve his day. He could no longer ignore what was happening… but he could try.

It is well known that out of all the races in Middle Earth, dwarves are by far the stubbornest. This obstinate attitude is particularly prominent when a dwarf finds out he is wrong in the midst of an argument, and yet keeps on arguing anyway. In these days during the crossing of the Wold, Legolas' words kept coming back to him from an argument that they had probably had about a year ago. Gimli remembered insisting that he'd never marry. He'd never act foolishly because of a dwarrowmaid. He'd never let his judgment be clouded by something as inconvenient as _love. _But lying in his bedroll one night, gazing up at the stars and listening to everyone else's soft, rhythmic breathing as they slumbered peacefully, he thought that perhaps he did not want to give love a chance because he did not believe that anyone would give _him _a chance. He remembered Finna joking, "Lords do tend to get married. I'm sure that _someday _you'll find someone."

That wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want someone who only cared about his money or his status. He wanted someone who cared about _him. _

But how could she?

Gimli scowled and rolled over, deciding that he was being stupid. Griniv could have her. Or Dalli, for all he cared. Or no one. He knew that Finna didn't wish to marry. For Mahal's sake, he _knew _that she didn't trust most men; why was he even thinking about courting her? If she didn't want anybody, she _certainly _wouldn't want him.

Not that he wanted her to. He didn't want to court her, either. He didn't want to court anyone. At least, that's what he lay awake at night telling himself, as if he could make it true just by speaking it into being.

/

"Freydis?"

The call came just seconds before the door to their chambers burst open. Freydis dropped the apron she was mending, and her mouth fell open at the look of urgency on her husband's face. "Bjorr?" she asked with incredulity in her voice. "What's happened? What's the matter?"

"Remember that Griniv fellow who went with Lord Gimli and his company?"

"Well, of course. He seemed like a nice young fellow. Very polite," said Freydis, looking confused.

"What do you know about him?" Bjorr asked, playing with his beard nervously.

Freydis paused. "Well… he said he was a tanner… and, well…"

"Did he say where he came from? Who his father was?"

"No, Bjorr, I don't think I even spoke a word to him. But dear, where in Arda is all of this coming from? What's the matter?"

"He said he was a new arrival," said Bjorr, "and at first that made sense. We needed a tanner. But he didn't say much about himself, and I was a bit curious. Naturally, the first place I went was the record-hall. The chief scribe writes down and keeps account of the colony, of course. Every birth, death, marriage, and new arrival. Well, do you know what I found?"

"No, of course not."

"_Griniv's name wasn't on the list._"

Bjorr shut the door cautiously and walked over to his wife, looking very serious.

"Perhaps they just forgot him?" she whispered.

"I too thought that could be a possibility. But the chief scribe directed me to the old records, copies made of the manuscripts from Erebor. There are family trees, births, deaths, marriages… everything is recorded there. For days I scoured these books."

"I was _wondering _what you were doing being out so late at night," Freydis said. "To think you were only reading!"

Bjorr paused and gave his wife a strange look. "What else would I have been doing?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, smiling sweetly. "Go on, dear."

"Well, I searched and searched these records, growing more and more curious about this strange dwarf named Griniv. And you know what? I couldn't find a single mention of him."

"Well, what if he's not from Erebor?"

"I thought of that too. The chief scribe also had some records copied from the Iron Hills. Awfully dusty they were. I suppose no one's found much use for them in quite some time. But I couldn't find him in there, either. Perhaps he was missed, or perhaps I am missing some records, or perhaps he comes from Ered Luin or another faroff place. But the fact remains: he is suspicious."

"I hardly think he is anything worth getting worried about, Bjorr," said Freydis reassuringly. "After all, did you see how kind and respectful he was?"

"But what if that is his goal? Maybe he hopes to gain our trust and then exploit our resources. Or worse, harm our lord, with whom he is now travelling. Think of all the opportunities he would have to kill him, should he wish to. I do not wish to alarm you, my wife, but we must be wary."

"Can a messenger be sent?"

"I fear he'd never catch up. They'll have gone too far by now," Bjorr said sadly. "All we can do is hope and pray for the best. I have already done quite a lot of snooping around, but tomorrow I think I will ask some dwarrows who Griniv's friends were, and who knew him before he came here. From that I hope to glean more information on his background."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing too shady," said Freydis hopefully. "Whatever the case, Gimli's lucky to have an adviser like you whom he can trust to take care of the colony."

Bjorr smiled. "Thank you, my dear. Now I had better get some rest so I may continue to take care of it on the morrow."


	21. Frost

**AN: So sorry about the late update! I was able to update almost daily during my reading week, but class has started up again and I've got loads to do, and two jobs to juggle. So that's all very lovely. But here's the next chapter! We're transitioning through the journey and beginning to build towards the royal wedding. I'm pretty excited about that :)**

While Bjorr at home was searching and searching for _someone _who might have known _someone _who might have known something about Griniv's past, Finna was beginning to feel more and more strange around him. For one thing, he was very attractive, and Finna had to work hard to ignore his charms. For another, he seemed oddly familiar. Finna didn't want to resort to the ridiculous-sounding "Have we met before?" but she longed to ask that very question.

He was, however, unfailingly kind to her, so she felt a bit bad for distrusting him, but something about him just made her want to keep her distance. They got along well together, though, and she had to admit he was fun to talk to. She hoped she could derail his ambiguous intentions with an aloof friendliness.

Luckily, the journey was getting on towards its midpoint. At long last, they crossed the Anduin and entered into Lorien. To almost all, Lorien seemed fair and beautiful, but its emptiness brought sadness to Gimli. There were a number of elves who lingered still, but it would not be for long. The power of the Ring of Adamant was ended, and the realm was no longer as fertile nor as protected. Winter was beginning to set in, and its hold on Lothlorien was stronger than ever before. The ground, which although before had been extremely resistant to cold, was now permeated by a thick hoary frost. Small ground foliage dropped withered leaves onto the white ground. The great mallorn trees were as of yet unaffected, but Gimli knew that without Nenya's nurturing, they too would eventually dry up and die.

On the positive side, the hostility he had been greeted with last time around was nonexistent. Many barriers had been broken down after the end of the War of the Ring, and a new peace had been ushered in between the free peoples of Middle Earth. To be fair, it could not be said that the elves treated Gimli's company like friends, but they were treated like allies and acquaintances, at least. Change would take time, but things were moving in a better direction.

Haldir and his brothers were still there, despite Lorien's rapidly declining population, and Gimli had a chance to make small talk with him and catch up. He, Rumil, and Orophin planned to sail for Valinor in the summer, when sailing would be the smoothest. Others, however, were packing up and preparing to leave even in the midst of winter. Gimli wasn't sure why; he had very little connection or attachment to these elves, but he felt sad at the thought of them leaving forever. It was also a reminder of the painful truth that someday, his friend Legolas would have to leave him behind.

Their short stay in Lothlorien was marked by mixed feelings for Gimli, but for all others in the company, it was altogether a lovely and restful experience before they got back on the road again after several days' respite. Now their path followed straight along the Anduin, and the going was good. The elves had given them a fair amount of waybread, cheese, and meat, and their supplies were lasting. Nuts and berries grew in abundance by the riverbank, which made meals a lot better than when they consisted primarily of cram.

Lifa was beginning to notice some strange happenings, though. The Hawkhunters had never been a slow-witted people, and Lifa was one of the quieter and more perceptive survivors of her tribe. First of all, when she had clapped her hand over Griniv's face to keep him quiet, she had afterwards noticed a bit of powder that had come off on her fingers. It could have been just breadcrumbs or flour. But coupled with the fact that she had never seen the blonde dwarf washing his face, she had to wonder if there was something more to it than simply a lack of care for personal hygiene. After all, his hair and beard were always immaculately braided, shiny, and clean. His face didn't look dirty, though. Lifa turned around and squinted at him a bit. Maybe dirt just didn't get on him, like the elves. She couldn't be sure.

When Griniv rolled up his sleeves to help with the washing up, she noticed another oddity. The hair on his head and on his chin was as golden as the sun; but the hair on his arms was as black as soot. She'd never seen anyone with two different colours of hair. Lifa wondered if it was just a strange strain of northern blood that she'd never encountered before, or if Griniv had found some way to alter the colour of his hair and beard. If so, how? And for what reason? She had to admit that the golden-blonde was strikingly beautiful, but could a dwarf really be so vain as to dye his hair just for that?

Lifa hoped for a chance to be alone with Falki or Finna so she could get another perspective on the issue. For the moment, she had her own tangled thoughts to try to work through.

The days were getting shorter and colder now, and the warmest wraps were necessary even when the sun was at its highest. In the mornings when they woke, a light frost covered the ground, and the banks of the Anduin were covered in slick ice. Washing up could lead to frostbite, so hygiene was temporarily compromised. One afternoon, thick snowflakes began to fall from the sky, and Gimli urged the company onwards to make as much ground as possible. Travelling over a thick layer of snow would be slow and difficult, and in all cases, not ideal.

That night when they made camp, they built as big a fire as they could handle and huddled around it together. Finna numbly pulled off her thick mittens and held her hands close to the fire.

"How are you managing? With this cold, I mean?" Finna asked Lifa. "I mean, you can't be too used to these sort of temperatures…"

Lifa smiled. "I did live in the Iron Hills for a couple of years, so I've experienced a few northern winters. Still, I admit I'm not quite suited for the cold."

Finna pulled off her heavy fur cloak and draped it around her friend's shoulders. Lifa protested, "W-won't you be cold?" She started to take it off, but Finna clasped it with her silver pin at Lifa's throat.

"You need it more than I do," she said, smiling.

**AN: Props to Chronicles of Narnia for that sweet quote. Also, fanfiction hates links! However, I've made some official art of Finna! So, head on over to tumblr, type in my author name, find my blog, and type in tagged/dwarven-treasure after my url. Check it out! I love being able to visualize stories in my head! **


	22. A Clean Face

**AN: I'm proud of myself! I actually found time to get this up a lot faster than the previous chapter! From here on out, there will be some mention of teen/mature subjects, so please be careful if you don't like that sort of stuff. **

Much to everyone's dismay, they very soon lost any notion of sharing warm clothing amongst themselves. Crossing through the monotonous Gladden Fields left them exposed to all the elements; in this case, snow and a biting wind. Natin complained enough for the whole group, and morale was low. Gimli made sure to move quickly so they could keep warm, and they were able to stop earlier at night to build a bigger fire. Conditions were harsh; all flirtations, courting beads, and other intentions unrelated to survival dissolved.

"We're going too slowly, aren't we?" Finna murmured to Gimli one grey morning. The wind had finally died down a bit, and the two were a little ways ahead of the rest of the company.

"Well, ideally we would have passed the Gladden tributary by now," Gimli admitted. "But the weather we've been having! It cannot be helped."

"But we won't be late, will we?" Finna asked.

"Late?"

"There's no chance of us missing the wedding, is there?" she asked, a bit nervously.

Gimli thought for a moment, stroking his beard like he usually did. "Of course not," he eventually said.

"You hesitated," Finna pointed out. "Well, today's the 8th, and his wedding's the 25th. We've got enough time, right?"

Gimli nodded. "Barring any major complications, of course."

/

Unfortunately for them, their winter journey was about to get slightly more complicated. Later that evening, Aki began to cough. Falki brewed a hot tea for him. "Family remedy," he explained, stirring the leaves in the steaming brew. "Cures any cough or cold. Don't worry, he'll be right as rain by morning."

But his coughs kept them up most of the night, and he was worse in the morning. He was flushed despite the persistent chill in the air, and he struggled to strip off his outer layers. "No!" said Natin, grabbing friend's arm. "It's freezing out! What are you thinking?"

"He's feverish," said Gimli. "Whatever was in that tea didn't work."

"We've got to bring the fever down," Natin added. "Have him drink some cold water."

That day, they moved slowly, being careful not to do anything too strenuous. But by nightfall it was obvious that Aki's condition was only worsening. Natin, whose mother was a healer, had a surprising amount of knowledge about treating illness, but their meagre medicinal supplies were insufficient for him to actually do anything about it.

He paced around the makeshift camp in frustration. "Can't anyone find some kingsfoil, some ginger root, _anything?"_

"It's all buried under the snow," said Holfi unhelpfully.

"Ginger grows tall, higher than the level of this snow," said Natin fiercely, "and athelas, although a groundcover plant, has little round leaves and could easily be dug up. Are you volunteering to go and find some for me?"

"I'll go," said Finna. "Aki needs something, and he needs it fast. I'll dig it up with my bare hands if I have to."

"Thank you," said Natin, looking slightly relieved.

"I'll go with her," Griniv added. "Two sets of hands and two pairs of eyes will make things much quicker."

"Look under cover of trees," suggested Natin. "Athelas plants like the shade. Hurry back!"

"We will!" called Griniv, heading off towards a little copse of trees up the riverbank.

"Aki, listen to me," said Natin, holding his friend by the shoulders. "You're going to be okay. Just hold on a little longer."

/

"So," said Griniv, scrabbling in the hard snow near a cedar trunk, "I think that we should just give up on the ginger root. The ground is probably frozen."

"Probably," Finna agreed, "but it's important, so we should at least give it our best shot. Maybe here's a better spot to look," she suggested, leading him into a small clearing.

As Griniv followed her, he asked, "What do the athelas leaves look like again? I forget- ah!"

The "ah!" was an exclamation of shock and cold. Finna turned back to look at him, beaming and laughing. She had just yanked down a branch, heavy-laden with snow, and let go, causing it to dump its load on Griniv's head. Snow covered his face and began to drip down in icy rivulets towards his beard.

"I had to," she laughed. "I'm sorry!"

Griniv just looked shocked and, Finna thought, a bit frightened, oddly enough. He said nothing, but began to wipe the snow off his face cautiously with his sleeve. Finna felt a bit awkward, wondering if he was really mad at her, and turned back to the task at hand. For a few minutes, she dug around in the snow, finding various bits of plant matter and frozen debris. Finally, she found a low bushy plant with tiny round leaves, just like Natin had described. She plucked off a branch triumphantly and whirled around, ready to exclaim that she had found what they had been looking for.

But her words died on her lips when she saw what the melted snow had left on Griniv's face.

A dark blue tattoo, previously hidden beneath thick layers of powder and makeup, had been revealed. It was an R-rune, spreading across Griniv's forehead and down the bridge of his nose. In dwarvish custom, the R-rune tattoo served only one purpose: to mark an individual as an outcast, a criminal, the worst kind of lowlife, until the end of his days. It was written on his face so that all could read the ugly truth - _rapist. _


	23. Divide And Conquer

**AN: Oh my gosh, I'm a terrible person… I left it on a HUGE cliffhanger and then didn't update for like 3 weeks. I feel so bad. I've been quite horribly busy and I got caught up in piles of homework, but today I found a bit of time to just write, and I'm happy that the plot is moving forward once again. So, I'm sorry about the hiatus, and I hope that this chapter is nice and good and answers a few of those burning questions! Thanks for your continued support!**

They stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. Thoughts were running rapid-fire through Finna's brain as she frantically tried to make sense of the situation.

_He's not, _was her first thought. _He couldn't be. He doesn't look anything like him. Blonde hair, big beard, well-muscled… Vignir was dark-haired and slimmer. _And then her breath caught in her throat. _But look at the nose. And the shape of his forehead. _She tried to convince herself once more. _It's not him. It's not him. Vignir is gone. I will never see him again._

And she looked into his ice-blue eyes, and she _knew. _

"You," she said, voice shaking. "_You _get out of here and you never come back. Never come back!" she yelled, desperately trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"Finna," he said softly, taking a step towards her. "Finna, you know that I never meant to hurt you. It was just a mistake, and it went too far. I'm better now. I'm a different person."

"I don't care! Stay away from me!" she cried, tears springing into her eyes.

"Finna, I'm going to do what's right. I'm going to take care of you," he said, looking at her pleadingly. He took another step forward.

"You've already taken enough from me!" she said bitterly. "You've taken my maidenhood from me. What more do you want?"

He stepped towards her, closing the gap. His chest was inches away from hers; stray hairs from his false golden beard tickled her face.

"Your love," he whispered, stroking her hair tenderly.

Finna recoiled, slapping his hand away and kicking him viciously where it hurts most. "How could I ever love a monster like you?" she spat out.

Vignir's blue eyes flashed with pain and rage, and he caught Finna's right hand with his strong arms and twisted it behind her back. "I stole your virginity," he said, "and I can steal your love too."

"The harder you chase me, the further I will run away," Finna replied, wincing in pain.

"Ah, but don't you remember what I once told you?" he murmured, leaning down towards her ear. "_I will always catch you." _

Finna heard a sharp crack and she cried out as white-hot pain coursed up her arm. Then she felt the flat of a blade strike her on the top of the head, and her vision dimmed to black.

/

"They should have been back by now," said Natin with a strained tone. He was trying to remain calm, but Aki kept coughing and sweating. Without treatment, he'd die. "Durin's beard, where are they?"

"Someone should go and find them," Dalli said. "Perhaps they're still looking."

This was a hopeful statement, albeit ridiculous (they had been gone for the better part of an hour). None of them were eager to go on a wild goose chase in the freezing cold, especially when some accident appeared to have befallen two of their companions.

"I'll go," said Gimli resignedly. "I'm sure that idiot Griniv has simply lost his way."

No one volunteered to go with him, so he sighed and hurried off, following the tracks in the snow. They didn't go very far. Gimli soon came upon a small clearing in which the snow had been trampled. A small branch with tiny round leaves lay discarded on the ground. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, along with the undeniable sense that something was wrong. He picked up the leaves, hoping they were the ones Natin wanted, and looked around warily. It was then he noticed a pair of tracks leading _away _from the clearing. Big boot tracks; they had to be Griniv's.

But where were Finna's tracks?

Gimli was no tracker, not like Aragorn or Legolas, but he had a good amount of common sense to go on. The snow all around the little clearing was undisturbed. There was only one set of footprints.

In that moment, Gimli felt sicker than poor Aki. He turned and broke into a run towards camp.

/

"What do mean they're gone? Why would they leave?" Dalli asked confusedly.

"There's only one set of tracks heading away from the clearing," Gimli explained breathlessly. His thoughts were frantic and jumbled, and for some reason he was having trouble explaining what he had seen. "They were Griniv's."

"Well then, where's Finna?" Holfi asked.

"Idiot, how could she have gone anywhere without leaving tracks in the snow?" Natin snapped. "What Lord Gimli is trying to say is that Griniv… Griniv must be carrying Finna."

"But why?" Lifa wondered. "Surely if she were injured, he would bring her back here… Wouldn't he?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered.

"We have to follow Griniv," said Gimli finally, looking around at all the others. "I'll go myself. The rest of you must continue on towards Mirkwood. With any luck, all three of us will catch up with you by nightfall."

"That's too risky!" Dalli cried out. "Going by yourself? Do you trust Griniv so completely that you'd be willing to put your life on the line to follow him and Finna? We don't have any idea what he's done to her!"

"Exactly why I have to go alone," Gimli replied firmly. "He could be dangerous. I need to send the rest of you ahead so the promised delegation can still reach the Elvenking. I have fought many battles, and I am sure that whatever and whoever Griniv turns out to be, I can handle him."

"Oh, quit trying to be Finna's big damn hero already," Dalli cried in frustration. "It's obvious that we need to send someone to Mirkwood, but I'm going with you, Gimli." He laid his hand on Gimli's shoulder. "What sort of Company would we be if we didn't have each other's backs?"

Gimli smiled a bit. "I suppose you're right," he conceded. "All right then Dalli, but we have to get a move on so we can catch up to them. Natin, take care of Aki. I believe I've got some of the plant you were after?" He tossed the sprig of athelas to the young swordsmith.

Natin gasped and caught it gratefully. "Thank you!" he cried, immediately starting to rip the leaves off, tossing them into the boiling water over the fire. "Aki!" he grinned, touching his friend's shoulder. "Aki, you're going to get better now! Just hang on a moment, I'm going to make you some medicine."

"He'll be fine then?" Gimli asked.

"I think so," said Natin, smiling. "Good luck!" He waved, and then faltered, "We'll meet up again soon, right?"

"I hope so," was as honest an answer as Gimli could give.


End file.
